


On The Run

by Pitkin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 87,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitkin/pseuds/Pitkin
Summary: Exhausted, scared, famished and overheated, Jemma came to a skidding stop at the edge of a small brook that looked to be a few yards across and a few feet deep. She dropped to her knees, sending them sinking into the damp muck at the water’s edge. Leaning over and swaying as a dizzy spell made her waver, she sunk both of her hands blindly into the cool water. In the back of her mind, her brain screamed at her that she needed to find a way to boil or filter this water but the scratchy, gritty, sandy feel to her parched throat and swollen tongue forced her not to care. Her senses were solely focused on her thirst as she cupped her hands together and began to lift a scoop of the cool water towards her mouth.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”





	1. Wouldn't Do That

Someone was following her. There were many things in life that Jemma Simmons didn’t know or hadn’t learned yet, but of this much she was certain – someone (or possibly one of those  _ things _ ) was following her; tracking her. No,  _ chasing _ her. She knew that running stirred up a lot of noise but if it was one of those shamblers, she wanted to keep ahead of it. If it was another living, breathing human pursuing her, well…she hoped they grew tired and gave up because her only real hope was to out run them, so to speak. Jemma focused on the ground ahead of her, on her peripheral vision, on the sounds she could hear out of her one good ear and on the terrain her feet fell against. Spraining an ankle from catching a fox hole or a tree root the wrong way would be a sure way to die right now.

She mentally took stock of the gear she had, which wasn’t all that much, as she had fled rather suddenly and there hadn’t been time to gather supplies with purpose. She had the clothes on her back; jeans, ankle socks, converse, undershirt, blouse, hoodie, blazer. She had a small messenger bag, its contents sparse; small medical kit, travel sewing kit, wallet (useless), cell phone (battery dead), flash drive (useless without a working computer), assorted pencils and pens, journal, two protein bars (useful), rolled up travel 1 liter water bag (useful if she could find some water, assuming it was potable), swiss army knife (useful), mini LED flashlight (useful, potentially), utility knife (useful), tampons (she was going to need those eventually), hair ties, chapstick, compact (useful for its mirror), a magazine of ammunition (but no accompanying gun), half pack of  _ Big Red  _ gum, map (lucky she had stuffed this into her bag when she found it)  and, finally, a small plastic container of dental floss. Though she had had a bit more than these supplies three days ago when she had fled, her stocks were dwindling and she feared stopping to scrounge for food and water would leave her vulnerable to recapture.

Jemma fought to rid herself of the paranoia that her pursuers had been trailing her for the last seventy-two hours. Would it have wasted too many resources to keep chasing her? She reasoned that it would be foolish to become complacent in times like these. So Jemma kept on. When she could make herself, she ran. When she couldn’t, she walked as quickly as she could. She slept when she found somewhere to barricade herself in without being detected.

Exhausted, scared, famished and overheated, Jemma came to a skidding stop at the edge of a small brook that looked to be a few yards across and a few feet deep. She dropped to her knees, sending them sinking into the damp muck at the water’s edge. Leaning over and swaying as a dizzy spell made her waver, she sunk both of her hands blindly into the cool water. In the back of her mind, her brain screamed at her that she needed to find a way to boil or filter this water but the scratchy, gritty, sandy feel to her parched throat and swollen tongue forced her not to care. Her senses were solely focused on her thirst as she cupped her hands together and began to lift a scoop of the cool water towards her mouth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”


	2. What's Your Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Because I had this already written I wanted to get it posted with the first chapter right away to give you a better read through buttttttt I didn't get to go a thorough spelling/grammar check! Forgive me! Feel free to comment and let me know where the typos are and I will edit them! (You have no idea how many times I have typed 'Syke' instead of 'Skye'....) 
> 
> As always thanks for reading! Thanks for all the kudos, comments and love as well!   
> <3
> 
> \---------

_ “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” _   
  
The voice came from nowhere. Jemma hadn’t heard any leaves rustling or branch twigs snapping. She hadn’t heard any heavy breathing to indicate pursuit. It was a calm but gravely serious tone. If it hadn’t been for the given situation of the world, Jemma might have thought it was a friendly timbre. She dropped her cupped handful of water and scrambled back on the muddy bank, digging into her pocket to fumble for her utility knife. Breathing heavily and reeling from exertion and her dizzy spell, from her hunger and dehydration, she flipped the partially rusted three inch blade open and held it out in front of her.

Across the narrowest part of the stream stood a young woman, somewhere close to Jemma’s age with dark brown hair, chestnut brown eyes and dirt-caked tawny skin. She wore dark brown cargo pants, carefully tucked inside heavy duty black combat boots which were laced properly and had their bow loops tucked inside their laces to keep from having them snag on anything. A belt kept pants cinched properly around her waist. She had an empty handgun holster on her right thigh, stemming from the belt, and a very large bowie knife holstered to her left hip and thigh. Jemma hadn’t a clue what was holstered along the back of the belt since she couldn’t see but from the looks of it this woman was much better prepared than Jemma. She wore a thermal shirt under a green plaid flannel shirt, both tucked into the waist of her pants, all but the top four buttons of the shirt were done. She had on a green military style jacket over that and fingerless gloves. Her backpack was across both shoulders, the chest buckle was clasped, and there was a small burlap sack hanging from the left side of the backpack. Though she had her gun out of the holster and was holding it, it was aimed downward and Jemma noticed that while her grip was firm on the gun, her right index finger rested on the outside of the trigger rest rather than along the trigger itself.

“Easy, now,” The stranger spoke again as Jemma stared at her like a frozen deer caught in a bear trap it didn't know how to break free from. “I’m not going to hurt you-,”

“I’m n-not going back s-so if you’re going to s-shoot me, you need to just d-do it already!” Jemma’s voice was nowhere near the level of calm the stranger seemed to possess. It was weak, broken, scratchy and full of shaky stammers. She cursed her hands for shaking so unsteadily as she held the knife out in front of her knowing full well that it was futile against a gun.

The stranger gave her a quizzical look, angling her head slightly. “I’m not going to shoot you,” The woman said. “And I don’t want to take you anywhere against your will,” she added.

Jemma blinked. She hazarded looking around over the surrounding area. If they had chased her all the way here, there was no way that they would send a single person alone. “You c-can tell the r-rest of them to c-come out. I want to…to s-see their f-faces, if they’re going to k-kill me…” she stammered at the stranger.

The stranger frowned. “I’m going to put my gun away now and come over to your side of the creek,” she spoke slowly, aware that Jemma must be suffering from, at the least, dehydration. She could tell Jemma had been running and from the sounds of it, she’d had pursuers as well.

“D-don’t come near m-me!” Jemma scrambled back a few feet in the damp packed dirt.

Slowly, the stranger held out her right hand, palm out and facing Jemma so she could see it was empty. Her thumb flipped the safety on her gun and she very slowly moved the weapon into its holster and buckled the strap over the back of it. “My name’s Skye,” she told Jemma. She nodded her head to the right and pointed slightly with her right hand as she extended her left out, palm visible to Jemma to attempt to show that she meant no harm. “If you look to my right, your left, there’s a fallen tree trunk. It’s about…twenty yards down from here. I’m going to climb across that and you see that boulder to your left that’s about ten feet away from you?” She waited for Jemma to follow her indications and then waited for Jemma to nod in acknowledgement. “Good. I’m going to climb across the brook and I’m going to walk to that boulder. I won’t come any closer to you and I won’t draw a weapon on you. I don’t know who’s chasing you, but I have nothing to do with whoever it is,” She paused. “Does that sound reasonable to you?”

Jemma considered her options. She was dead anyway, even if she tried to run while this stranger, this ‘Skye,’ was crossing the tree trunk. No doubt her companions would catch her if she did that. She didn’t have any viable options.

“Okay. I’m going now. Don’t drink that water. I have clean water, I promise. Just wait there for a minute. You’ll be able to see me the whole time,” Skye’s tone took on a gentleness, like that of a mother patiently trying to talk her insubordinate child down from a tantrum. Jemma wondered if she were being irrational. Her eyes followed Skye’s every move as she walked down the bank, occasionally turning her head to check on Jemma as she went. She climbed carefully across the trunk so she wouldn’t have to soak her feet or pants through the water. The temperatures had been steadily dropping for the last two weeks and cold, wet feet at a time like this was just asking for trouble.

Once Skye reached the noted boulder, she stopped walking as promised. Her hands were still up, palms facing Jemma. She offered Jemma a small smile. “Thank you for not running away,” She said. “I’m sorry I scared you,” She added. “I’m going to unbuckle my backpack so I can get to the supplies, okay?”

Jemma stared at the woman. Her weary mind shot off in multiple directions. Who was this woman? Why was she acting the way she was acting? Was it safe to trust her? Could Jemma really trust anyone after what she had escaped? Her hands still trembled as she gripped her utility knife. “W-Why did you s-stop me?” she asked.

Skye slowly reached the plastic buckle on the chest strap of her backpack. With two fingers she unhooked it with practiced ease. Still moving slowly, she slipped out of the shoulder straps and set the pack down on the ground. “There’s a canteen on the back of my belt. I’m going to reach back and grab it, I’ll move slow so you know it’s not a weapon,” Skye said. Keeping her left hand in view, Skye reached back with her right hand and Jemma heard the sound of a button clasp popping. Still moving slowly, Skye’s right arm came forward with a metal canteen in her hand. She held it up and out toward Jemma.

Jemma eyed the container warily. She couldn’t trust this stranger. This could just be poison. Who knew what could be in that canteen? It could be instant death! It could be worse. It could be something to drug her and who knew what this woman would do with her then??

“I know you’re thirsty. I’ve been there before,” Skye nodded down the other end of the creek bed. “I was hunting when I heard the shuffling through the leaves nearby. I thought you might be a deer,” she smiled. “Anyway,” she nodded down the length of the creek bed. “I know most people only look out for their own skin anymore but…I would’ve wanted someone to warn me if I was about to drink tainted water.”

Jemma blinked, trying to take that all in with her achy head, injured ear and world weariness. When had she slept last? Before sunrise. It hadn’t been for many hours, just enough to be alert enough not to keel over. She looked down the creek bed where Skye had nodded and then stared as her jaw dropped and hung agape. Not more than ten or fifteen yards up the creek bed lay a two grisly mangled bodies, face down half in the muck and half in the water that was flowing right through the spot that Jemma had just tried to drink down. She gasped and tried to swallow against the lump in her throat but her swollen tongue felt almost stuck to the roof of her mouth. 

“It’s...i-it’s not transmittable by consumption…” Jemma stammered. 

“I suppose that’s true enough,” Skye conceded. One wouldn’t turn into one of the mindless cannibalistic undead by drinking water they’d soaked in. “But that doesn’t stop the decomposing bodies from infesting the water,” She said. Of course, Jemma knew this, but her brain wasn’t in top shape at the moment between her hunger pains, her dehydrated dizzy spells and her fear, her thoughts were sluggish and jumbled. Skye held the canteen out. “I can toss it to you, if you don’t want me to come closer,” she offered. 

Jemma eyed the canteen again. Her tongue struck out across the cracked, chapped lips though it failed to wet them in any way. She remained silent, nowhere near trusting this stranger, no matter how kinds she seemed she might be since this could still be a trap. Skye tried not to frown. She pulled the canteen back and unscrewed the cap while Jemma watched. She put the canteen’s spout to her lips and tipped it back for a small drink, leaning forward to wipe some water off her chin as it spilled while she swallowed. She screwed the cap back on and tossed the canteen to Jemma’s side within easy arm’s reach. 

“I get your cautiousness,” Skye said. “Trusting anyone anymore is…” She sighed and shook her head. She crouched down to her bag and unzipped it. “I have food too, if you’re hungry?” Skye went on. Jemma’s eyes shifted, first to the canteen and then to Skye who was rummaging about her bag. “I managed an alright haul today too, but we’ll need to find good cover if we want to build a fire for cooking purposes.” 

Jemma watched Skye, wondering how long she should wait before she believed that the canteen wasn’t poisoned. Her tongue could take it no longer and she hastily reached for the canteen. She tucked it into her elbow and then reached to unscrew the cap so she could still hold the knife out with her right hand. While Skye was looking down into her backpack and rummaging around, Jemma put the canteen to her lips and tipped it back without taking her eyes off of the (possibly kind) stranger. She let the liquid swish around her mouth and down her throat with great relief. She chugged down two large gulps of the liquid before she pulled the canteen down and went to screw the cap back on. 

“No, you finish it,” Skye told her. “I have more,” She assured Jemma. Jemma hesitated but Skye offered her a small smile. “Honestly, it’s okay. I can take you to a better water source too so you can fill your own if you’d like,” She offered. 

Jemma hesitated another moment, licking her lips once more, feeling slight relief. She tipped the canteen back with reckless abandon a moment later and greedily chugged her way through the rest of it spilling only a small splash or two down her chin. She wiped her face off with a breathless sigh as she brought the empty canteen to rest in her lap a moment. Her eyes were on Skye once more as she tried to properly straighten her thoughts out. 

“What’s your name?” Skye asked. 

Jemma frowned. She cleared her throat and hesitated. Skye arched her eyebrows slightly, more out of curiosity than anything else. “Jemma,” she finally answered. 

Her answer brought a bigger smile to Skye’s lips. “Jemma,” she repeated with a nod as if the act of echo alone committed this knowledge to memory forever. “Nice to meet you,” She said cordially. “Would you like an apple?” She pulled one of the mentioned pieces of fruit from her bag. 

Jemma unconsciously licked her lips. Skye motioned to let Jemma know she was going to toss the apple over to her and Jemma actually lifted her hand to prepare to catch it. Skye tossed the apple and Jemma tore her eyes from Skye to look down at the gift in her hand after catching it. Was it possible that she had managed to accidentally find the last bastion of humanity on the planet by stumbling through the woods? When her stomach could no longer take it, she used her knife to cut a slice free and brought it to her mouth immediately, caution be damned. She even closed her eyes for a brief second as she chewed the fruit. 

“How long have you been traveling by yourself?” Skye asked her question only after Jemma opened her eyes and looked at her again. Jemma’s brow furrowed and she hesitated. “I’m sorry to make assumptions but...you said someone’s chasing you and you definitely don’t look like you were prepared to be on the lamb with whatever you’ve got in that little bag,” She jerked her chin toward the small messenger bag hanging to the ground at Jemma’s hip. “You’re definitely not prepared for the sun going down in a couple hours...shit, I’m sorry. You’re already freaked out and I’m telling you all the ways I’ve been checking you out-,” Skye blinked at her own words and grimaced. “I mean...not, not that I was  _ checking you out _ , checking you out - it’s just that…It’s hard to tell whether or not helping someone’s going to mean I have to fight them to keep myself alive, so…” She cleared her throat. 

Jemma sat quietly through Skye’s ramble. Admittedly, the right corner of her mouth turned upward slightly. She finished chewing another bite of apple. “You decided to help me, though.”

“You’re right, I did,” Skye conceded that point with a small angled nod of her head.

“So you trusted I wouldn’t kill you for your gear?” Jemma asked.

Though she made no outward show of the chill that crept into her spine at the way Jemma phrased that logical statement. “I suppose you could say that, yeah. Was I wrong?”

Jemma considered her for a long moment and shook her head. “No,” she answered. “I have no interest in killing anyone,” she said.

“Who are you running from?” Skye queried.

Jemma noticed that Skye didn’t spend too much time looking at any one thing for a prolonged period. Each sound she heard, she turned her head in that direction as if trying to scout out each little sound – was that a human sound? Was it an animal scurrying by that she could catch? Or was it a rotting undead corpse shuffling toward their scent and sound for its next gut-busting meal? Jemma did her own cagey glancing around every so often as she cut more chunks of apple free to eat them.

“I don’t know,” Jemma answered Skye’s question after she swallowed her mouthful.

Skye’s right eyebrow made a perfect arch along one half of her forehead. “How long have they been chasing you?”

“Why,” Jemma turned the question around as she realized all she knew about this woman was that her name was Skye and she had fresh, clean water, apples and weapons. “Trying to figure out if they’re part of your group?”

Skye’s face changed, darkened a bit as she glanced around over her shoulder at an imaginary sound. She inhaled a long breath and Jemma watched the flicker of emotions that seemed to cross Skye’s face before the woman had put her controlled, docile façade back into place as a mask. “I don’t have a group,” she said. “We were attacked a while back and got separated,” she collected her thoughts again and pulled a tube from the shoulder strap of her backpack. It turned out to be a spout connected to something inside her backpack that apparently contained water as she put it to her lips and took a drink.

“How long have you been on the road alone?” Skye rephrased her question.

“I…” Jemma paused a moment and tried to jostle her mind to calculate the time. She lifted her hand and looked at her watch, squinting. “Three days, give or take, I reckon?”

Skye blinked at Jemma. No way did the pale woman have enough gear to survive that long on her own. “With only that little knife?” She balked.

Jemma looked down at the knife in question and used it to lift another piece apple to her mouth. “Yes,” she answered, drumming up false confidence to cover her own surprise.

“You must have one killer lucky charm on you,” Skye replied. Jemma gathered that Skye seemed impressed.

“I’ve-,” Before Jemma could continue, a distant groan, accompanied by the crunch of leaves and snap dead tree bark caught both Jemma and Skye’s attention. The sound came from the direction behind Jemma and, before she could think better of it, she had turned around and scrambled backward, right into Skye.

 


	3. Quite an Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Violence against the undead ahead! 
> 
> Same as chapter 2, since I have this done I wanted to post it. I did some spelling/grammar checking for this the other day but you know how spell/grammar checks are when you're doing it to your own work! Hard to catch em! Let me know if you spot some and I'll edit. 
> 
> I have more chapters written up for this already but I haven't revised them at all so I'm gonna stop after posting this for now until and will update at least another chapter hopefully tomorrow.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Hope you dig it. If not, that's cool too. Thanks as always for all the kudos, comments and love!   
> <3
> 
> \--------

“Easy,” Skye murmured in her ear as she caught Jemma in her scrambled escape-flight backward. Skye’s eyes scanned the area which the sounds came from and didn’t see anything in her sight line yet. “It’s still a bit of distance away,” Skye whispered into Jemma’s ear as she stowed the empty canteen in her pack. “Get up slowly and we’ll cross the creek over the tree trunk, find somewhere safe to cook some dinner,” she paused a moment, not moving from her spot. She realized Jemma was shaking under her touch where Skye had her gently by the upper arms. It was clear that wherever Jemma had been before her three day jaunt into the wild, she hadn’t encountered too many zombies. Skye liked to call them what they were, rather than picking one of the trendy nicknames other people assigned to them to describe their jaunty shamble and lifeless expressions. “Okay?” She asked Jemma.

Jemma stiffly nodded. “O-Okay,” she spoke barely loud enough for Skye to hear it. Skye could tell she wasn’t quite strong enough to get past the fear and needed a kick start to get moving. Balancing on the balls of her feet, Skye hooked her hands under Jemma’s arms and hauled the girl up to her feet as she stood up. Jemma seemed to snap out of it a little bit then. “I’m okay,” she murmured. “I-I’m okay,” She stammered.

“Hey,” Skye slipped into the straps of her backpack and snapped the chest strap. She turned Jemma to face her and held her gently by her upper arms again, ducking to lock eyes with her. “You’re okay,” She repeated. “You’re gonna stay that way, I promise.” Skye looked past Jemma and still didn’t see any zombies in her line of sight but she could hear the crackling shuffle of half dead leaves under the shuffling foot of a person who had long ago lost proper control over the mechanics of walking. “Okay?” Skye waited for Jemma to find whatever it was she was searching for in Skye’s face before she finally nodded. Skye turned to take a few carefully placed steps near the muddy creek bed. She didn’t like leaving tracks behind but it would make less noise in the thicket and leaves as they traveled.

Skye kept Jemma steady over the fallen tree trunk and stopped her from slipping and falling in on three different occasions. Once they were on the other side, Skye set a quicker pace but made sure Jemma kept up with her. Jemma shoved the half-eaten apple into her bag but kept her knife out. Skye had pulled her own knife from its sheath and was holding it, blade facing downward as she scanned the mottled path ahead of them while leading Jemma through.

They had only traveled for a few minutes when Skye stopped. Jemma stumbled slightly into her and Skye reached her free hand back to steady the scared woman. “W-Why are we-,”

Skye put her finger to her lips to signal for Jemma to be quiet and then cupped her hand behind her ear to tell her to listen. Jemma’s eyes widened when she realized there was a growing chorus of groans around them. Were they pack hunting?? Jemma didn’t know they could coordinate like that. With her finger still to her lips, Skye turned around as she sheathed her knife and buckled the clasp. She pointed upward and Jemma looked up into the thick branches of the sycamore tree they were standing next to. She turned back to Skye about to ask what Skye was trying to show her when she spotted the other woman, leaning over, knees bent and her hands cupped, fingers laced together to make a single foot stirrup and she understood what Skye was after.

Too afraid to question the idea, Jemma put a hand on Skye’s shoulder and put her right foot into Skye’s cupped hands. She extended her left hand upward along the bark of the tree, preparing to grab for the low branch. Skye pushed with her knees and then her arms to send Jemma up to the closest branch to the ground. Jemma heaved herself up into the crook of the branch and scrambled, struggling for a moment to both stay in the tree and move to a higher branch so that Skye would be able to climb up, though she wasn’t sure how the woman was going to get to the lower hanging branch.

“Sssst!” Skye hissed and Jemma looked down just as Skye was winding up. She tossed her backpack up to Jemma, who managed to catch it because of Skye’s good aim. She slipped it around her shoulders to keep from dropping it. Skye backed up from the tree as if preparing for a running start but then looked to her right and cursed under her breath. She looked up at Jemma. “Stay here. Climb a little higher. Keep quiet. I’ll be right back,” She assured.

“What? Skye, wait!” Jemma called in a harsh whisper but it was too late. She heard the loud haunted moan and the crunch of leaves and spotted the zombie headed in Skye’s direction as Skye jogged away from the tree in an attempt to lead it away, wolf whistling as she went.

The advancing ghoul had been too close for Skye to have time to climb up into the tree without alerting it to their hiding spot. Since she still had light on her side without the sun having gone down too much, Skye decided to lead them away. She really hoped there were only a handful of them and not a full pack of hunters.

Jemma waited until the closest one shambled after Skye’s retreating form before she carefully climbed to a higher, but still stable, large trunk branch of the tree. She was high enough to be out of reach even from any of the undead if they came upon her, but her anxiety was amplified by Skye’s absence. Admittedly, she was still a little wary of the other woman, but Skye had waited until she was safe in the tree to lead zombies away from her. Still, there was a voice in the back of her head that told her that if Skye  _ didn’t _ return, they had come upon a fortunate windfall with whatever supplies were in Skye’s backpack. Her thoughts stalled when she heard Skye making some long whistles and clicks of her tongue to get the mindless ghoul to keep after her.

Skye kept the most careful watch she could around her as she moved, trying to simultaneously avoid tripping on anything and avoid running into any surprises. She was almost back to the creek bed when she found a tree with low enough branches to get into with a running head start. By the time she was in the first set of branches, about five feet off the ground, the zombie following her walked blindly face-first into the cracked bark of the tree, its arms already in the air reaching for Skye. She pushed to a higher branch and laid along the length of it until she was able to reach a long offshoot branch that was a couple of inches in diameter, enough to get her hand around it in a good grip. She reached into one of her cargo pockets as a second zombie staggered toward the tree and grabbed the looped metal of her steel wire saw. By far this had been one of her smarter finds while scavenging.

Skye uncoiled the wire and reached to thread it around the branch. She hooked her fingers through the loops holes at each end and carefully moved to stand against the trunk of the tree so she could get tension on the wire saw. With the two undead moaning below while they clawed at the tree, Skye ignored the perspiration that dripped along her face and down her back as she worked the wire to cut through the branch as quickly as possible. Though she was trying to ignore the sounds of the zombies, it grew louder as a third of their pack found its way to its companions, Skye was careful to keep count of how many were approaching. So far there were four in her sight line; two against the tree below her, one about fifteen yards out and approaching and one further off in the trees.

When the branch was almost completely shorn from the tree, Skye pulled her wire saw free, wound it up and stowed it in her pocket. She wrestled with the branch until she had wrenched it free and then she dug through her pockets once more for string or tape. She came up with a plastic container of floss. While keeping one’s teeth healthy was of major importance, people rarely realized how useful a container of floss could be in the apocalypse. It had much stronger tensile strength per pound than twine. It usually came in little, extremely lightweight containers that were 30 or more yards long. It could be threaded into thicker rope. It could be used for setting traps. It could be used in a bind for a lot of things. Right now, Skye used it to firmly bind her bowie knife to the end of the branch she had cut. The branch was about three feet long. If she moved back to the thick branch she had originally climbed upon, it would be relatively easy pickings to take out the groaning ghouls below.

Once she was sure the knife was secure (binding it incorrectly or too lose and losing it to the ground right now would be a grave mistake that could cost Skye her life), she took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. There was a fifth zombie in her sight line now. Skye hoped it was the last of them so she could make her way back to Jemma and get them both to a more secure location for the night. She made sure her footing was secure before she moved down on the tree trunk’s thick branches. Though she was still out of reach, it was only by half a foot at most, which made Skye second guess her on-the-fly idea. There was no going back now, though.

She aimed her first strike to the closest zombie and wrapped her hand tight around the girth of the end of the branch she held. With a deep breath as she braced her muscles and swung downward with as much force as she could without throwing her balance off. It took a couple of swings before she managed to take down the first one and it was slow going through the rest of them as they piled up at the base of the tree trunk. Once the fifth had reached the tree and she had managed to do away with it, Skye pulled the homemade spear back up. She swung it against the tree to make some amount of noise, adding some wolf whistles to it too – enough noise to attract any other close by zombies but not enough to draw too much attention.

When she was satisfied the coast was all clear, Skye used a small pocket knife to free her larger bowie knife. She put both away, one folded and back in her pocket, the other clipped into its sheath at her hip/thigh, and then hung down from the branch she was on to drop safely to a clear space on the ground without twisting an ankle. She looked around to get her bearings and then retraced her steps back to the tree she had left Jemma in. There was one last straggler and apparently it had found its way to the tree Jemma was in. As she approached, Skye could hear a whimper or two of fear that she knew the other woman was trying, and failing, to hold back despite the fact that she was safe up in the tree.

Taking great care to be as silent as possible, Skye approached from behind the zombie. Jemma almost screamed in relief when she spotted Skye,  _ alive _ ! She realized what Skye was doing and began to rustle the leaves of an offshoot branch of the tree that she could reach. She made clicking sounds with her tongue as if she were trying to get a horse’s attention and the zombie growled in frustration as its hands left black decomposed blood and flesh behind, clawing at the mottled bark of the tree, unable to climb. It stared up at Jemma and snapped its jaws, hissing its displeasure.

When Skye was within arm’s reach, she shove the ghoul by the back of its head face-first into the tree and plunged the blade of her bowie knife as deep into its skull as she could by the softer knot of bone behind its ear. Its groaning hiss stopped immediately and Skye took a step back as she let it fall to the ground. She pulled the knife from the thing’s skull, satisfied it wasn’t going to move again. She wiped the blade clean on the last tatters of the thing’s clothes. Skye turned and moved her back to the tree, surveying the area for a long few minutes. Jemma watched her, too afraid to speak before Skye, wanting to know if the woman was alright. Once Skye was again satisfied that they were, relatively, safe for now she looked upward into the tree to find Jemma staring down at her with concern.

“Well, today’s certainly been quite an adventure,” Skye offered Jemma what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Whattaya say we find a safer place for the night and eat some dinner?” She asked.


	4. Quit Ogling Me, Ya Flirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving right along...!!
> 
> As always thanks for reading!! Thank you as well for the kudos, comments and love!!   
> <3
> 
> \---------

Jemma went from relieved that Skye was alright, to anxious and fearful about leaving the safety of the tree in an instant. “Y-You mean…on foot?”

Skye bit back a soft chuckle. “Unless you’ve got a car I don’t know about, yeah,” She shrugged and nodded easily. “I passed an abandoned farm a few kilometers from here when I was hunting earlier,” she explained. “Wasn’t occupied so far as i could tell. They had a barn, though. I’d reckon we could double back and use the loft in there for shelter for the night after I get my catch cooked. Could maybe even have some useful supplies in the farmhouse still too,” she laid out her plan to try and ease Jemma’s fears.

Jemma chewed on her bottom lip. Could she make it that far on her weak legs when she was shaking like a leaf still? Skye seemed like a decent person, but could Jemma trust her own judgement of this woman? 

“If leaving my most precious possessions with you wasn’t enough to make you trust me,” Skye said as if reading Jemma’s mind. “There’s a revolver in a holster in the side pocket of my backpack. It’s got six rounds in it and will clip to your belt. You can keep it. I mean, hey you can do the heavy lifting and carry the bag too, but I don’t want to overburden you since it seems like that apple and that canteen of water were the first you’d had in some time,” she was trying to coax Jemma down. Both Jemma and Skye knew that the longer they stayed in one place out in the open, the more likely it was they would come across trouble. Still, Jemma hesitated. 

“Listen,” Skye tried again,  patient and gentle but persistent. “Come with me tonight. The temperature drops fast here once the sun’s down, we’ll find somewhere to get out of the cold and away from danger, we’ll get some food in our bellies, get a decent night’s sleep maybe…if you’re still wary of me in the morning, we’ll part ways and I’ll wish you luck on your journey,” She laid out the offer and then arched her eyebrows just a tiny bit, silently asking Jemma if that offer sounded good to her.

“What’s in it for you?” Jemma asked. Her caution couldn't be helped despite the fact that Skye could have murdered her multiple times by now, or could have left her up in the tree with a pack of zombies scratching at the bark. Instead, Skye had risked her life to lead then away and then had come back for Jemma. Well, she came back for Jemma and her backpack of supplies. 

“I get to enjoy checking you out some more for the night?” Skye asked with a lopsided smiled. Jemma blinked and stared at her. “I may have lied earlier when I said I wasn’t  _ checking you out _ , checking you out – can you blame me, though? I mean…I have eyes.” Jemma didn’t look quite as beat up, dirty and scraggly as Skye did yet, but despite whatever appearances of each other in the wasteland of life without electricity and real showers, well – Look, the woman was attractive, okay? Skye was acutely aware of it. She realized it wasn’t the best thing to say in trying to convince Jemma to come with her. “I’m sorry, bad timing for a joke,” She apologized with a pink flush of her cheeks and a tiny sheepish smile.

“I’ll say,” Jemma’s cheeks were flushed a bright pink as well. Whatever she heard in Skye’s voice must have been reassuring and somehow convincing though, because she started to climb down from the tree.

Skye helped her from the last of the branches and then backed off from her personal space. “Are you alright?” she asked with genuine concern laced through her tone.

“Me?” Jemma balked. “You’re the one who ran off purposefully attracting a legion of the undead after you…Are  _ you  _ alright?” Her eyes suddenly began to scan Skye from head to toe, looking for any sign of bite marks.

“Hey, quit ogling me, ya flirt,” Skye quipped with a crooked grin before she could bite her tongue.

Jemma blushed bright red. “N-no, I...I wasn't, I didn't mean to’”

“It’s okay,” Skye smiled at her. “Safe and sound, no bites or scratches,” She assured both Jemma and herself with the statement.  She held her hand out but wasn’t aggressive about it. “I can take that from you, I know it’s a bit heavy,” She said of the backpack.

“Oh,” Jemma looked down at the straps. “Right, erm…sorry,” She unhooked the chest strap and slipped from the shoulder straps, passed the pack to Skye. Was she suddenly feeling bashful? Jemma blushed again when their fingers brushed but Skye just merely smiled warmly at her.

Skye tugged the backpack onto her shoulders and hooked the clasp. She blindly reached for the side pocket and tugged the zipper until her hand fit through. She pulled the revolver and its holster she’d mentioned from the pocket and held it out to Jemma. “As promised,” she smiled. It was a small gun and Skye had kept it hidden there for emergencies. It wasn’t the only hidden weapon she had, but Jemma didn’t need to know that right now.

“Oh, no..I-I…I couldn’t, I’m not…Guns kind of freak me out…” Jemma murmured uncomfortably.

“How about you take it for now, just as a precaution,” Skye reasoned. “Until we find you a more efficient knife?” She offered.

Jemma considered this for a moment and then acquiesced with a nod. She took the revolver, nestled in its brown leather holster, carefully hooked it to her waistband at her right hip and adjusted it until it was secure. “Thank you,” She said to Skye. Skye was taking great efforts to make her feel comfortable and even though Jemma still felt wary, she appreciated the effort that Skye certainly didn’t have to make to begin with.

Skye smiled again. It seemed absurd to be able to smile in the face of the end of the world, but Skye’s easy smile and the patient manner with which she treated Jemma made it hard not to smile at the woman in return. “Let’s get going while the light’s still on our side, eh?” she arched her eyebrows.

“Lead the way,” Jemma gave her a small smile, hoping she didn’t regret this decision as the two of them started off through the woods.


	5. Choose Wisely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read on wit yo bad self!! <3
> 
> \----------

After walking for almost an hour (Jemma knew the slow pace was for her benefit as Skye could have made easily it in half the time), they reached the barn and its accompanying farmhouse. Skye kept Jemma behind her and they searched first the farmhouse and then the barn to make sure there were no lurking ghouls and no other humans already staking claim to the place. In the house, as the sun began to wane lower in the sky, they found some sleeping bags in decent condition, a couple of lingering unopened canned goods and mason jar preserved foods that they loaded into Skye’s pack. Skye swiped a mostly empty container of salt and stowed it, then swiped the half-full pepper shaker from the kitchen counter. 

They found a battery operated lantern that still had some juice, though they left it off for the moment. Skye found another two containers of floss to stuff in her pack and they even found a pristine tube of toothpaste in one of the bathrooms. They managed to find a first aid kit and Jemma loaded it with the last bits of medication that they found in a nightstand and tucked it into her messenger bag.

They searched the barn next, cautious to check every corner for anyone or thing lurking but the place was empty. Jemma lit the lantern once they were inside since all the windows were shuttered. Skye unhooked her backpack and crouched down with it as Jemma gave their temporary shelter a closer look now that she knew she wasn’t in danger of being eaten. “Why don’t you get us a place set up in the loft? It felt pretty sturdy when I was up there and we can pull the ladder up too. I’ll take these out and get them cooked before we lose the light,” she pulled the string of the burlap sack she still held.

“What if someone sees the smoke?” Jemma wondered.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to see them as my lookout from the loft until I’m done, to give us warning?” Skye asked. Jemma nodded and Skye smiled at her.

“Do I want to even know what you caught?” Jemma asked.

“I’ll tell you once you’ve had a taste,” Skye grinned and went back outside the barn. 

Jemma gathered the lantern, backpack and sleeping bags and climbed up into the loft. She went to one of the windows and turned the lantern off before she opened one half of the shudders so she could look out and find Skye. In a clearing a few feet far enough out from the barn, Skye unfolded a metal spade that she had grabbed from her backpack. Jemma watched as she dug a foot or so deep circle in the dirt. When she seemed satisfied that it was deep enough, she looked around and then looked up and spotted Jemma. She pointed toward the house and signaled that she’d be back before she jogged off. 

A search around the house brought her back with a couple of spokes from the house porch’s wooden railing. She brought it back and used her foot to split the narrow planks in half. After piling them so they were a standing teepee shape in the ditch, Jemma watched as Skye dumped a handful of hay next to the pile. Skye dug through her pocket and came up with small lanyard that had two things hanging from it Jemma couldn’t quite make out from her spot. 

Jemma looked away to check their surroundings just to make sure nothing was sneaking up on Skye. When she looked back, Skye was striking the two things hanging from the lanyard together while holding some of the hay in her hand with one of the pieces. It took a few tries before Skye suddenly leaned over toward the hand with the hay and started blowing into it. Jemma saw the first small tendrils of smoke as they rose. Moments later, Skye set the smoldering hay down on a bigger pile and leaned over to blow on it. When she seemed satisfied that the fire was started, Skye turned her attention to cleaning the animals from her burlap sack. Jemma tried to watch the perimeter instead of the gutting but she couldn’t help her curiosity. It turned out Skye had caught a rabbit, a bird of some kind she didn’t recognize from her viewpoint and a couple of smaller animals that, from her spot she could only assume might be squirrels. 

It went on like that for a little while. Skye cooked the food over the small fire. Jemma watched the area for any intruders, living or undead, as the sun continued set. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances - a vast majority of the human population was dead, or worse, undead - Jemma would have thought it a beautiful setting. While she watched, she used the first aid kit to clean her wounded ear, surmising that she had suffered a punctured eardrum when it had been injured over a day ago. She cleaned off the dried blood and did her best to very gently clean out her ear canal without causing any more damage, just trying to make sure it wasn’t growing infection.   
  
When the food was done, Skye cleaned the meat off of all the bones and loaded it into one of her camping bowls and then cleaned her tools and set it aside. She poured some water on the fire and then smothered it thoroughly with the dirt she had piled up from her earlier digging. She rolled up her burlap sack and folded her spade, gathered everything else and looked up to give Jemma a wink before she headed inside through the barn doors. Skye stopped to lock the door and then slid the long wooden crossbar through the interior hooks to make sure the door was barricaded from the inside. She headed over to the ladder and made her way up into the loft where Jemma took some of the things from her hands to help her. Skye set the food down and then went to the side of the loft. She grabbed a rope that Jemma hadn’t spotted before and pulled the angled step ladder upward before she tied it off. 

“Now nothing can get up here if anything happens to get in somehow,” Skye grinned. She walked back over and sat down on one of the sleeping bags Jemma had unrolled. Jemma closed the window shutter and locked the latch. Skye turned the knob on the lantern to give them a little bit of light. She dug round in her backpack and pulled out one of the mason jars. “Looked like it was three bean salad, what d’ya think? Give us a side dish to go with our gourmet meal?” 

“What exactly is it that you’re about to feed me?” Jemma asked as she looked down into what she could see of the meat in the bowl in the dim light of the lantern between them. “I mean – I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean to sound ungrateful! Gosh, I’m awful!” Jemma grimaced.

Skye chuckled. She unlatched the mason jar, relieved to hear the release of air as the vacuumed seal released the lid. She held it to her nose just to make sure it didn’t smell rotten. The liquid inside smelled a bit sweet and a bit sour, about how she thought three bean salad should smell. She was still chuckling softly at Jemma’s apologies as she put the open jar down next to the bowl of cooked eat. “You’re in lucky, actually, since we found salt and pepper inside, it’s going to taste better than normal,” Skye answered. Food was food. Skye knew that and she was sure at this point that Jemma knew it as well.

Skye grabbed two small steel sporks from one of the backpack’s pockets and put them both into the mason jar. “This side is rabbit,” She pointed each of the three sections out. “Squirrel and chipmunk and this last one is mottled duck,” Skye looked across the space at Jemma and spotted Jemma’s eyes following Skye’s fingers carefully. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian,” Skye quipped.

“Hm?” Jemma finally looked up at Skye and became temporarily ensnared by the kindness in the woman’s dark brown eyes. “Oh, erm, no,” she stammered a reply, hoping the lantern was dim enough that Skye couldn’t see the slight flush of pink to her cheeks. “No, I’m not a vegetarian…don’t think I’ve ever had any of these before, though.”

Skye smiled now that Jemma seemed a much more at ease with her than she had just a few short hours earlier. “Hey, beats starving right?” Skye asked with a small grin to let Jemma know it was a joke.

Jemma let out a startled snort of laughter. “Definitely,” She pretended she didn’t hear her own stomach grumble as she looked at the food, unsure where to start.

Skye reached for the bowl, pulled a small piece of each kind of meat from it and piled it in her other hand. She sat back and picked a piece up from her palm at random to bite into. The salt and pepper really was as much of a godsend as the duck had been. Since the duck was extra fatty, she had been able to poke at it with her knife and catch decent amounts of the drippings to pour over the other meat while it was cooking. Rabbit could always use more fat since it was so lean that one could starve to death if they ate nothing but rabbit alone without the fat to proportionally sustain them.

Jemma decided just to blindly dive in and started trying things. Over the next half an hour or so, Jemma and Skye made their way slowly through the meat and the three bean salad jar with little comment other than Skye asking Jemma how the food tasted. Jemma was so hungry that she had honestly thought it was the best meal she had ever eaten in her life. When they were finished, Skye used a bit of water to first rinse out the bowl and then to rinse out the mason jar. She dumped the water over the edge of the loft to the ground and then propped the bowl and jar upside down to leave them out to dry overnight. She stowed whatever gear she could and then settled back down into her spot across from Jemma. She used her camel pack spout to fill the canteen from earlier for Jemma to drink from and then drank from the spout on herself.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Skye asked.

Jemma’s eyebrows arched up. “Dessert?” She asked curiously, wondering if this was another of Skye’s little jokes.

Skye nodded. She held her hands out in closed fists facing upward. “Pick a hand – choose wisely now,” she said with an impish grin that felt almost infectious to Jemma, who studied Skye’s outstretched hands carefully.

After a few moments of thought, she said, “Left,” and pointed to Skye’s left fist.

Skye grinned and opened her palms revealing a small wrapped jolly rancher candy in each palm. Jemma’s selected hand held a bright red cherry flavored candy. Skye’s right hand held a bright green sour apple flavored one. “A wise selection,” Skye said as she held her left hand out further for Jemma to take the candy.

Jemma gingerly retrieved the candy from Skye’s hand. She stared at the candy, suddenly overcome with emotion over the kindness Skye had shown her since they met at the creek. Her eyes welled before she could stop them. She looked from the candy in her hand to Skye, opened her mouth to apologize for being emotional but instead the floodgates opened and a sob escaped her. She quickly covered her mouth with her free hand.

Skye’s face morphed from her mischievous mirth to extreme concern in an instant. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said almost reflexively. She tucked her candy into her pocket and moved to crawl over to the spot next to Jemma. “You’re alright,” she whispered reassuringly as she lifted her hand and began to run it along the length of Jemma’s back in an attempt to comfort the other woman. Skye knew what it was like suddenly have to navigate alone in the kind of world that they lived in now. It was overwhelming and terrifying and a constant assault to all senses and systems. “Everything alright,” Skye murmured as Jemma tried to stammer out an apology for her sudden breakdown. “Shhh,” Skye shushed her in a soft tone as she gently guided Jemma’s head onto her shoulder. “We’re safe for the night. It’s okay. Easy. Just breathe.” She stroked her hand calmly over Jemma’s opposite arm and held onto her. She knew that Jemma had spent the last three days without human contact other than people who were supposedly chasing her.

It took some time before Jemma had exhausted her uncontrollable well of emotion. She was left sniffling and occasionally hiccupping as Skye rubbed her arm and her back, silent now that Jemma’s sobs had subsided. “I’m s-sorry,” She sniffled. “I don’t…I d-don’t know where that c-came from…”

“Hey, no sweat, Jem,” Skye assured without letting her go just yet. She could feel Jemma shaking and knew part of it was from the draft coming in through the uninsulated barn. The other part was the emotion and the nerves. “How long’s it been since you slept last? Why don’t we get you into your sleeping bag and you can get some rest for the night?” She suggested and gave Jemma’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Jemma wanted to ask Skye why she was being so nice to her but her exhaustion from the last three days combined with the feeling of finally having a full stomach after expending all that energy crying, well, Jemma could feel the pull of sleep as it tugged at her. She nodded. Skye bunched a bit of hay up under the head of Jemma’s sleeping back and made her take her shoes off before climbing in under the assertion that sleeping with them on was terrible for circulation and should only be done when absolutely necessary.

Once Jemma was zipped into her sleeping bag, Skye unfurled one of the heavy horse blankets they had found in the horse stalls and draped it over Jemma’s sleeping bag, tucking in the bottom corners around her feet. She moved some of the bales of hay in the loft so that if someone were to come in, they wouldn’t be able to see that anyone was up in the loft. Finally, she moved the lantern up toward their heads and climbed into her own sleeping bag. Once she tucked an extra horse blanket around her bag, she zipped it up most of the way and got comfortable on her side facing Jemma. She turned off the lantern and waited for her eyes to adjust, listening as Jemma sniffled in the dark.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you tonight,” Skye promised Jemma in a whisper. They were tucked next to each other but Jemma didn’t feel afraid of Skye any longer, whether it was good or bad, her guard was down against the woman. Skye could tell Jemma was still trembling slightly so she reached over and wrapped her hand around Jemma’s and gave it a squeeze. “Sweet dreams, Jemma,” she offered a faint smile in the darkness. Skye stayed awake as Jemma’s breath fell even and she was lulled into sleep. For a long time, Skye stayed awake, listening to the sounds of the night for anything abnormal. When she thought they were finally safe, she let sleep pull her under finally.


	6. Enough Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild (if there is such a thing?) human psychological warfare (for lack of a better term??) and violence
> 
> \------

  
Skye was the first to wake in the morning. Light streaked through random portions of the barn, sneaking through unsealed cracks and rotted crevices. They beamed like bright warning signs, letting her know she had slept much later into the day than she ever planned to do. Skye was normally up with the sun and either out on the hunt or on the move once she’d had breakfast and inventoried her supplies. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the peaceful expression on Jemma’s slumbering face, muscles eased into relaxation, her lips parted just slightly as she inhaled and exhaled  soft, even breaths. Her eyes witched, shooting back and forth like Olympic sprinters in her sleep. Despite the frizz of her hair, the random smudges of dirt here and there and the darkened circles from her three day ordeal that ended in a good cry, the golden light angled in such a way that Skye thought Jemma looked angelic.  
  
She didn’t want to wake Jemma but Skye let go of Jemma’s hand so she could reach out and tuck some stray strands of her the woman’s hair behind her ear. Jemma inhaled a deep breath and slowly her eyes cracked open just as Skye was setting her hand back down on her own sleeping bag. For a brief second a flash of fear shot through Jemma’s somewhat bloodshot eyes before her memories from the night before flooded into her slowly waking brain.  
  
A very small smile curled over Jemma’s mouth as she sleepily turned her head down into the sleeping back to stifle a yawn. Skye smiled. “Good morning,” she whispered across the space between them.  
  
Jemma opened her mouth to respond but just as she was breathing in, a long whistle followed by muffled shouting between two people interrupted. Jemma’s eyes widened but before she could emit the startled cry that bubbled up into her chest, Skye was halfway out of her sleeping bag and on top of her, clamping a hand down over her mouth and holding her finger up to her own lips to signal for Jemma to be quiet. Jemma bit hard into the insides of her cheeks. Her heart raced as hot pants of Skye’s breath beat against her cheek. Skye’s eyes were focused on the bales of hay blocking them from view up in the loft.  
  
“Somebody was here – within the last day from the looks of it!” One of the gruff voices said.  
  
“Let’s take a look inside,” The other suggested.  
  
Jemma trembled beneath Skye’s grasp as the internally barricaded door slammed from the weight of people running into it.  
  
“It won’t budge, it’s locked.” One of the voices said.  
  
“If it’s locked, it’s locked from the inside, the lock out here’s busted,” The other said.  
  
“No it’s not, the padlock’s right there-,” The voice was cut off by the ringing clang of a gunshot and bullet meeting metal. Skye pressed her hands tight over Jemma’s mouth when she let out a muffled whimper of surprise. The padlock had been hung on the outside of the door for show since Skye could actually lock that from the inside. Shooting the thing off was clearly a warning to anyone inside the barn from the two men outside.  
  
“Now it’s unlocked!” The other voice said.  
  
“ _JESUS CHRIST_! Are you trying to draw hordes of them to us?!” The second man’s voice screamed.  
  
“Shut up and get the door would ya, ya pussy?” The first man retorted.  
  
Jemma closed her eyes in fear as she shook when the banging at the door happened again. Skye waited for her to open her eyes again and held her finger to her lips again. “Shhh,” she barely whispered it and then arched her eyebrows at Jemma as if to ask, _‘If I let you go, can you keep quiet_?’ Eyes wide, Jemma quickly nodded her head a few times. Skye nodded and eased off of Jemma. She grabbed her gun from the holster she had removed and stowed next to her sleeping bag the night before. Quietly she clicked the safety off and checked that she had a round loaded in the chamber. Jemma stayed where she was, too afraid to move.  
  
Skye rolled onto her stomach and crawled out of her sleeping bag. She turned until she faced the side that the doors were on and laid flat on her stomach behind the edge of one of the bales of hay. Jemma was too afraid to move. She wanted to see what faced them, but she feared making any noise at all. Jemma could see the tension in Skye’s muscles as she carefully positioned herself to have an angle on anyone who entered through the doors. Her taut muscles never flinched but Jemma’s jumped every time one of the men slammed against the barn doors. When they decided they had enough they began to use a tool of some kind – Skye assumed it was a crowbar – to pry enough of the boards loose to create a hole they could squeeze through.  
  
Skye breathed shallow quiet breaths; in through her nose, out through slightly parted lips. She sighted the two intruders as they talked and ignored the growing pit of anxiety in her stomach. It was one thing to dispatch one of the shambling undead ghouls. It was a whole other ballgame to have to bear the weight of possibly killing a living human (or two, in this case).  
  
“This is a waste of time and energy!” The second of the men complained.  
  
“Quit your bitching. Someone stayed here. I want to know if they’re still here,” The other side.  
  
“If they are, they’ve heard us long before we even got in here. No one’s here!”  
  
“Door’s barricaded from the inside – you know any doors can do that themselves?” He snapped back at his companion. Turning around in the barn as he surveyed the setup, he called out. “Whoever you are – you can come out! We ain’t gonna hurt you!”  
  
Now that they were inside the barn, Jemma recognized the arguing voices. Though it wasn’t loud enough for the two men to hear, she inhaled a quiet gasp that made the hair on the back of Skye’s neck stand up. Skye only spared a small glance back at Jemma and saw the absolute terror on her face. She knew just as the man was speaking again that these must be the people who had been chasing Jemma.  
  
“Nobody’s here, man!” The complainer said.  
  
“Jemmmmaaaaa,” The second sung out, confirming Skye’s suspicions. “We know you’re here. We saw your little campfire pit outside. You did a nice job trying to cover it up, I’ll give you that much.”  
  
Skye looked back at Jemma and mimed for her to stay quiet just to make sure Jemma didn’t get any crazy ideas. Jemma was too afraid to move. What would they do to the two of them once they found them up in the loft? Skye, meanwhile, was calculating her options. She had enough cover to get off two shots before they figured out where she was but…could she really be responsible for taking a living human’s lives? Even if they were chasing Jemma for unknown reasons, was this something Skye could truly do? Was it their only option to get out of this situation?  
  
Skye had had quite a few experiences in her travels running into unscrupulous strangers with questionable morals and motives, whose minds had been warped by the things they had seen or had to do, or who were just taking advantage of the chaos surrounding the fall of all of civilization to live out their chosen violent fantasies. She had been subjected to some of them herself and had fought her way to freedom. Whoever these people were, whatever they were capable of, whatever they had already done to Jemma…Skye couldn’t let them get their hands on the other woman again. But did that mean Skye had it in her to cold-bloodedly kill two men she knew nothing about? Was that true? Did she really know nothing about them? She knew they were hunting Jemma. She knew they were taking pleasure in this hunt. She knew that the very sound of their voice instilled enough fear in Jemma that the woman was still frozen in her spot, trembling in terror, that they had made her fear any other human as being from the group she had fled, there to take her back.  
  
Skye didn’t know much about Jemma yet, but she could easily see that the woman had been through something very traumatizing. Of course, everyone had been through their fair share of trauma, but this was a recent kind of trauma and one that was still chasing Jemma down. It was all about the eyes, Skye always thought. They were the true tell. Anyone could be a good actor, but their eyes always gave them away. Jemma was scared. Jemma wasn’t trained to survive in the new, dangerous world on her own. Jemma could have killed her in her sleep last night, but she hadn’t. Jemma had broken down over the simple gift of a small piece of candy, overwhelmed by a tiny kindness from a near stranger. Jemma had kind, but guarded and troubled eyes. Without looking into their eyes, just from observations already made of their conversation, Skye knew these two men were dangerous. They wanted to toy with her. They wanted to hurt her. Skye knew she couldn’t allow that...but could she really choose to take a living person’s life when they hadn’t actually tried to attack her, to try and take her own?  
  
Skye licked her dry lips as the men called out for Jemma, taunting, as they circled the main floor of the barn. She kept them in her sights as best as she could as they moved in and out of her periphery while still keeping herself and her gun hidden.  
  
“Jemmmmma…Come on – is it really necessary to treat us this way?” The first man was the one doing the taunting. He was almost gleeful as his rhetoric spewed from his lips. “We’ve done a lot for you since all of this started, haven’t we?” He asked. “Hm? C’mon, I know you’re up there somewhere,” he called out. “How else could that step ladder get tied on up there, hm? And the door? How else could it have been barricaded from the inside?” He wanted to know. Skye glanced back at Jemma and watched the silent tears streak the woman’s cheeks as she bit so fiercely into her bottom lip to silence herself that her teeth began to draw blood.  
  
“Listen, now,” He spoke again. “We just want to take you home. Those are our orders. We mean to follow them. Now I know you’ve had some trouble following orders in the last couple months, but, the General sent us along with a promise that you’re to be forgiven so long as you turn yourself in and come with us. That’s all you have to do now, darlin’. So speak up. Let’s end this, what d’ya say?”  
  
Skye weighed the options. She glanced at Jemma once more. This time, Jemma stared at Skye but Skye knew the other woman wasn’t actually seeing her. Her pupils were dilated to the point that Skye could no longer see her honey brown irises. Skye put her hand to her lips and mimed for Jemma to keep quiet, waited for a long few beats for Jemma to recognize that she was planning to speak and that Jemma was to stay quiet no matter what, as if she could convey this through mime and expression alone. Jemma nodded.  
  
Skye took a deep, quiet breath through her nose. She made sure she had sight of both of the men again and she said. “My name’s not Jemma,” She paused, counting to three slowly in her head to give the men time to process that her voice did not sound like the sweet British lilt of the woman they were trying to hunt. “I don’t know or care who you or your General are and you damn sure aren’t taking me anywhere.”  
  
“It’s not her!” The second man hissed. Skye heard the rushed panic in his voice but the first man ignored it and shushed him with a shove.  
  
“Well, now, seems we’ve got us a bit of a problem now,” The first man said.  
  
“I’ll say!” Skye retorted. “The only way you’re leaving this barn alive is if you go back out the way you came without so much as a glance back.” The first man put his hands on his waist, one of his hands reached for the holster on his hip, reaching to unclasp the button holding it in place. “You’ve been in my sights since you pried your way into this barn, Buddy. You unbutton that clasp and it’s the last thing you’ll do in this life.”  
  
“Is that so?” He challenged.  
  
“Try me,” Skye retorted without trepidation in her voice, no matter how much she felt it in her gut. “You’ll get one in each leg, and your buddy will get one in the heart. Take a few minutes for him to come back from the land of the dead to eat you for supper while you’re still breathing.” It was big talk, she knew. Life was a psychological game in this new world. Skye could try to talk this guy down with threats, seeing as his partner was some modicum of distressed already but if push came to shove she would direct the cleanest shots to the head she could manage for both of them, if it really came to that.  
  
“What makes you think you can do all that to me and my partner here before one of us returns fire?” Man one asked with a chuckle on his tongue.  
  
“Your partner looks about ready to piss his pants,” Skye said. “I’d wager he’s five seconds, at most, from turn tail fleeing.”  
  
“So-,”  
  
“Enough talk!” Skye interrupted with a shout. It was a calculated move. She was forcing their hand. “Leave now or die.” She felt the perspiration on her forehead, in her palm as she adjusted her grip carefully on her gun, curling her finger over the trigger loosely in preparation.  
  
“Now hold on a-,”  
  
Skye squeezed the trigger.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: more psychological stuff, and violence too. 
> 
> This is the last of the chapters of this story that I have currently fully written so there may be a bit of time before I have more updates available! 
> 
> <3 Thanks for reading and for kudos, comments and love as always!!  
> <3
> 
> \------

The gun exploded with an ear splitting crescendo. The bullet hit the space between the first man’s boots, kicking up a small cloud of Earth and caused him to reflexively jump backwards. He landed on his ass into the compacted dirt floor of the barn. Jemma couldn’t control the shrill, fearful sound that escaped her as Skye gave them a deliberate warning shot. Skye didn’t want to kill these guys; she didn’t want that on her conscience, but she meant business and she would do it if she absolutely had to, if they made her. The second man was just as skittish as Skye suspected. He leapt away from the first man and scurried for the hole in the door they had squeezed through – he was out the door before the first man could even think of climbing back to his feet.

“You missed, Darlin’!” The first man called. “And you’ve tipped your hand as well – Jemma’s up there with you,” It wasn’t a question.

Skye watched him carefully. He vaulted to his feet and simultaneously tried to move to hide under the lofted area while reaching for his gun. As his arm swung, pulling the gun from its holster, Skye squeezed down on the trigger again. The cacophony of the noise of another loud shot ricocheted around the old wooden barn. Skye ignored the ringing in her ears. This bullet ripped through the man’s right shoulder, which caused the gun to drop from his hand and clattered into the dirt as the force of the collision spun him and threw him down into the ground once more.

Skye wanted to beg the man, as he ground his teeth together and groaned; she wanted to plead with him to cut his losses, to leave and go after his friend. She wanted to convince him that he could just leave and make his way back to wherever their camp was with his buddy’s help…but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Even if he had chosen to leave, Skye would never have been sure that they actually had left and weren’t just waiting to trail them until the time was right to catch them unawares. Skye couldn’t allow for that chance. She heard her brother’s words in her head, from when he had been training her…back when she thought his insistence on training her in survival tactics stemmed from his paranoid delusions of the state of the world. Boy had she been wrong. _Again, Skye – until it’s muscle memory, until you don’t think, you just do. It’s them or you. There are no other choices. Don’t think, just do._

The man crawled for his gun with his good hand.

Skye squeezed the trigger a third time. Jemma yelped and curled into herself. The man’s groaning ceased as the bullet pierced through his skull and his body collapsed in a twisted, lifeless heap in the dirt. Skye didn’t move a single muscle as she stared down at what she had done; the image before her seared into her brain, creating a memory she would revisit, she was sure, all the remaining days of her life. Did it make her a savage, the fact that she had just taken a human life? It wasn’t the same as doing away with the reanimated ghouls. Those ghouls weren’t human; anything that they had been before the moment they had risen from death and launched their new all-encompassing quest to devour living human flesh, well, they ceased being human. It was survival to destroy them. It kept Skye alive and it prevented any zombie she killed from killing and turning another human into one of their legion. Was this the same? Skye was sure it had been necessary, but…now what did she – no, _they_ – what did they do?

Jemma sniffled against her will, still trying to remain silent. Skye hesitated. She waited long minutes to see if the second man returned. She heard the distant telltale groaning of the walking corpses and knew the sound of the gun was loud enough that it could have called to nearby zombies, telling them where to converge like a megaphone announcing ‘FREE FOOD!’ as loudly as possible. A shrill scream of agony carried across the open fields of the farm and Skye knew that the second man wouldn’t be a problem as he must not have paid proper attention when he fled the barn and now he was the ghouls’ problem.

The sound of another stifled sniffle broke Skye from her steadied guard duty. She flipped the safety on her gun with her thumb and released the hammer as she turned to get a look at Jemma. Jemma was nearly balled up, curled into herself and hugging her knees as she lay there among the sleeping bags and the straw matting of on top of the barn loft’s flooring, shaking uncontrollably. Her pupils were blown wide in fear and Skye wondered for a moment if the woman was so scared she might have actually wet herself. Skye couldn’t imagine the terrible things that must have been done to Jemma, to leave her this shaken just from hearing the men’s voices.

Slowly, Skye moved to her knees and crawled toward the terrified woman. She welcomed the distraction from the trauma of what she had just done, recognized that she and Jemma needed to pack up and clear out, that she could aim her focus on consoling Jemma through the fear instead of letting her insecurities eat her up inside. “Hey,” she said softly, looking for some kind of recognition in Jemma’s eyes as she moved closer to the other woman.

“Jemma,” Skye said her name and when she was within arm’s reach, she gently touched her fingertip to Jemma’s face, along her cheekbone. Jemma’s muscles tensed and jumped and though her eyes were still wide with fright, they zeroed in and focused on Skye’s face. Her brow furrowed as Skye’s fingertips traced her face, tentative and gentle, laced with concern for her though they hadn’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours. “Hey,” Skye’s voice was as gentle as her touch as her hand closed around the curve of Jemma’s arm where it met her shoulder. “You’re okay,” she assured. “I promised you’d stay that way, remember?” she asked.

Jemma blinked through the tears that had been steadily, if mostly silently, flowing from her eyes from the moment she had heard the men’s voices and recognized them from the facility. She couldn’t stop her trembling though she fought to regain her composure. “W-why…?” The single word was the only one she could push from her lips in a stammer.

Skye’s brow furrowed. “Why what?” she gave Jemma’s hand a squeeze and resisted the urge to cradle Jemma into an embrace, to rock gently with her until she was no longer terrified. Skye realized how absurd that thought process was but she couldn’t seem to stem it.

Jemma sniffled, still trying to be as quiet as possible, too scared still to make much noise. “Why…why are you d-doing all of this for...for m-me…?” she asked her eyes searching Skye’s, reaching into the furthest depths she could manage, searching for rhyme or reason.

Skye gently stroked Jemma’s hair and back with a light touch, hoping to bring Jemma some comfort. “I don’t know your whole story yet,” Skye answered thoughtfully, “But no one deserves to be hunted like an animal only so they can be forced to go somewhere they don’t want to for whatever nefarious reasons they might want you,” She said. Jemma silently surveyed Skye, not completely sure what to make of that in her still highly agitated state.

“People shouldn’t have to make their way in this world alone. That’s not a way to survive. That’s a way to slowly wither and give up. I don’t want that to happen to either of us, so…” Skye cleared her throat and even that normally abrasive sound seemed gentle to Jemma in that moment, calculated. She recognized in her harried state that Skye was trying to soothe her. Everything that Skye had done – every kind word, sharing of supplies when there was a chance anyone could rob and kill you for whatever meager supplies you had on you, offering up a nostalgic little candy as a ‘dinner dessert’…killing the violent men who had been sent to bring her back – Everything Skye had done had been meant to show Jemma that she could be trusted. “So I…I was hoping that, maybe, we could make our way together from here on out. We make it together because anyone left alone too long out here isn’t going to make it, not intact...not without losing what’s left of them.” She said and then fell quiet for a few moments. “What d’you say?” she asked Jemma.

Jemma tried to clear her head of the fear. She tried to focus on Skye’s words. She understood what Skye was getting at. Skye wanted to hang onto her humanity. She could see the hit Skye had endured in taking that man’s life, it reflected clearly in Skye’s eyes as a small flicker of horror and remorse. Skye was not unscathed by the moment despite her ability to control her outward display of emotion where Jemma couldn’t. Skye, who was kind and who still had shreds of her humanity remaining, could do what needed to be done for survival when push came to shove…but she wanted someone with her, someone to ground her. She wanted the companionship, she wanted the backup, and she wanted to be held in check if she stepped out of line. She wanted to give those things in return. She didn’t want to be alone when the world was against her and she didn’t want Jemma – a complete stranger – to be alone against the rest of the world. Jemma could see the duality in Skye’s dark eyes, regret and disgust at herself for her actions battling against necessity and desperation.

Jemma wasn’t aware of reaching for Skye’s hand on her shoulder until her fingers had curled around the top of Skye’s hand. She nodded her answer, unable to conjure up the right words to properly express her gratitude for Skye’s willingness to put her own neck on the line for Jemma without knowing whether or not Jemma might be some kind of crazed maniac. “I’m s-sorry,” she said as more tears welled and clouded her vision.

Skye’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t entirely sure how to take Jemma’s reply. Was Jemma saying that she couldn’t go with Skye or was this something else? Her confusion lay in the way Jemma was holding fiercely onto Skye’s hand on her shoulder, but her words of apology could mean…Skye didn’t get to continue her thought. She watched as Jemma, still trembling, though much less than before, moved to her knees, and sat back on her heels. Skye opened her mouth to speak but Jemma let go of Skye’s hand, leaned forward and in the next moment her arms were wrapped tightly around Skye and her face burrowed into the crook of Skye’s neck.

“Thank you,” Jemma murmured over and over through renewed tears as if it were a mantra, as if repetition could convince Skye of her gratitude. “I-I’m sorry,” She murmured again, inter-splicing the two mantras together.

Reflexively, Skye’s arms wound around Jemma in return. How long had it been since she had last hugged another human being? She wondered. She stroked Jemma’s back in slow caressing patterns. “You don’t have to apologize,” She assured Jemma.

“You don’t,” Jemma sniffled and Skye tightened her arms around the woman to let her know it was okay to expel whatever emotions she needed to. Skye knew what it was like to be on her own and there were days at the beginning that made her want to breakdown and scream or cry or both. She’d had no one to turn to in those times and it had nearly driven her mad. She wasn’t about to let that happen to this woman before her; No, they would get through whatever lay ahead of them together. They would get to know each other. They would _learn_ from each other and most importantly, they would _survive_ without losing themselves in the process. “You d-don’t even know me and...a-and you’ve had t-to-,”

“They would have killed us both,” Skye said with conviction. “I don’t know where you came from, how you got there or what you had to do to break free, but I wasn’t going to let them harm either of us. This was not your fault, Jemma,” She said firmly. For a long time the two of them remained, arms about each other, Jemma sniffling and apologizing, sending up her murmurs of gratitude and Skye reassuring her that it wasn’t her fault, that everything was okay.

The day continued on and Skye knew that they had limited time to pack up and move on from this place. It was with great reluctance that she had to loosen her grip and lean back from Jemma. Dirt streaked over Jemma’s cheek as Skye’s thumbs swiped at the remaining tears.

“We can’t stay here,” Skye told her. She wanted to give Jemma time to rest, to recoup from the harrowing few days she had had on her own, but the barn was no longer safe. Neither of them knew if there were others on Jemma’s tail or how long they would try to track her. Staying in any one place for too long was a good way to get into trouble. She could see the fear in Jemma’s eyes as soon as her brain processed the words. “It’s not safe anymore. We have to pack up and move on,” she hesitated a moment and kept careful watch of Jemma’s face. “Can you handle that?” she asked.

Jemma bit into her lip as she considered Skye’s words. She took a steadying breath and nodded. “I can,” she whispered in the space between them. She owed Skye that much after all the ways Skye had saved Jemma in the last twenty-four hours. She could follow Skye’s lead. They could do it together. They _would_ do it together. 


	8. Because you're cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings other than the fact that I am on my phone posting so I didn't get to properly spell/grammar check, forgive me my typos!   
> <3 <3
> 
> \--------

The first day after leaving the barn was spent mostly in silence, each of the women grappling with their own inner demons as Skye led them along a back road by sticking to the edges of the woods flanking either side of the road, easily hidden by the brush and trees. Now that she had some food and water in her system and her pursuers were gone, Jemma’s brain had enough energy to consider all that had happened to her before Skye had stumbled across her and saved her life three or four times over.

It was still light out when they came across a small main street area of a former town. Skye seemed anxious about venturing through the town instead of around it. Jemma was tired and wary but she recognized that Skye was much better at this than she was so she told Skye that she was okay with whatever Skye thought they should do. Skye decided they should stop for a meal while it was still light out and then led them further from the wide street of shops, back into the woods. Jemma tried to hide her unease at moving through the woods most of the day after what had happened the day before. She was with Skye now and after what happened in the barn, she knew that Skye would protect them both.

Jemma watched, sitting across from where Skye knelt in the small clearing they had found. Skye dug around her pack and came out with a small round metal can. She used the edge of her knife to pull the can’s cap off and Jemma saw something blue inside the can. Her brow furrowed as Skye pulled the flint strike from her pocket and used the two sticks to spark off of each other. One of the sparks caught and Jemma realized the can was a sterno can, used for heating chafing dishes at a buffet. Skye had cleared the leaves and debris from the area so it wouldn’t catch. Next she pulled two cans out from her pack and looked across at Jemma. “Chicken and dumplings or chunky new england clam chowder?” She asked with a small smile.

Jemma arched her eyebrows up slightly. “Which do you prefer?” she asked. Jemma was grateful for Skye’s seemingly endless kindness but she felt guilty using up Skye’s precious resources.

“I asked you first,” Skye smiled at her.

Jemma frowned thoughtfully. “Chowder,” she answered.

Skye grinned at her. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” She asked and Jemma realized from her tone that Skye was teasing her. The world was quite literally falling apart around them…and Skye was able to tease her. Jemma felt awed by the inner strength that Skye must have possessed, to be able to do such a thing. Skye used her multi tool to open the can and used a pair of insulated needle nose plyers to carefully balance the soup can over the sterno, taking great care to make sure the can both wouldn’t tip over and would cook while leaving a sliver of space for the sterno to get air so it could keep burning.

“Where did you get that?” Jemma asked.

Skye arched her eyebrows. “Hm? What, the soup cans?”

“No, the…that thing,” she pointed to the sterno as the name for it left her tired mind.

“Oh!” Skye smiled. “Found a catering van on the highway a few weeks back. What food was left was obviously no good. Seemed like everyone picked off the useful items, tools, knives, engine parts even. No one seemed to bother with the sternos. Guess they didn’t know what they were,” she smiled. “I have four of them in my pack. Want to hold onto one or two of them in yours?” she offered as she watched the soup and used the pliers to turn the can every minute or so. She planned to split the supplies between them once they found Jemma a suitable pack and she worked her stamina back up from her ordeal. For now, Skye was alright as the main gear carrier but she wanted Jemma to know that she thought they were in this together, that they could trust each other.

Jemma shook her head. “That’s alright,” she assured to let Skye know that she appreciated the gesture. “How did you know what they were?” she wondered.

Skye’s cheeks flushed a light pink as she turned the can again, trying to ensure everything heated evenly. She blindly reached into her pack for one of the stainless steel sporks and stirred the soup around in the can. “My friend’s parents owned a catering business. We used to work events for them for extra cash under the table,” she explained. “I’ve had to light many sternos in my day and have burnt a fair number of fingertips on them before. I thought they would be of great use. They’re reusable. They don’t require kindling. They’ll heat a can of food in a few minutes but you don’t have to worry about someone seeing the smoke like from a fire or the smoke like when you’ve doused a fire. You don’t have to collect firewood either. When you’re done, you blow it out and cap the can, let it cool while you eat and tuck it away again for later,” She explained. “I thought it was a damn lucky find that day,” she smiled.

“It sounds like you’ve had a combination of smarts and luck on your side,” Jemma said. Skye arched her right eyebrow slightly at her and Jemma wondered what kind of question she was preparing but the question never came.

Soon enough the first soup can hand begun to bubble a bit. Skye let it cook for another two minutes before she set the spork in the can and pulled it from the first with the pliers. She wrapped what looked like a folder tank top around the hot can and handed it to Jemma. “Bottoms up,” Skye said. “Just make sure you blow on it, it comes off it pretty hot. Don’t want you to burn your tongue,” she gave Jemma a small wink and then used her multi-tool to open her own can so she could start cooking it.

“You said your group was attacked?” Jemma ventured as she lifted the can toward her nose to take in the smell of cooked food she could actually identify.

Skye’s muscles tensed as she looked at her can of soup. The shift in her posture was uneasy and stiff. Jemma frowned. Skye cleared her throat but Jemma spoke first. “I’m terribly sorry, Skye,” Jemma’s voice had a gentle quality to it when she wasn’t shaking with terror or waiting to see if she needed to fight for her life. “Please don’t feel obligated to answer that. I never should have-,”

“It’s okay,” Skye cut Jemma off before she could ramble out a longer apology. “It’s…” She cleared her throat again and gave her head a small shake to jog her thoughts. She nodded slightly as she finished heating her soup. She used the pliers to move the soup can to the ground. She leaned over and blew out the sterno, then capped the lid back on but left it in its spot to cool. She used a small hand towel to pick the can up and then stirred her spork around in the can. “There were four of us at first,” Skye kept her eyes on her soup rather than looking over at Jemma. “Before it all happened, I mean.” She clarified her statement.

Jemma watched Skye, attentive as she slowly ate her soup. It was clear that Skye was struggling to put this story into words. Jemma didn’t know the details of it yet, but she could sympathize in light of her own story that had led her to this point in time. She sat silently, letting Skye speak and nodding along here and there, keeping close watch over the muscle movements of Skye’s face as she relayed the painful stories.

“When the world went to shit, I still had my mom and my brothers,” Skye stirred her soup, took a sip here or there. It was clear she was forcing the food down with little enjoyment. Eating was a necessity at the moment, not a leisurely activity. “She took them in before I was born, and they never let me live it down that I was the baby of the family,” A sad smile tipped the corners of Skye’s lips as a memory struck her. She kept it to herself, a secret in her heart that she refused to let go of. Skye cleared her throat. “My oldest brother, Grant, he was a survivalist. One of those ‘Doomsday Pepper’ types, y’know?” she cast a glance at Jemma but wasn’t really seeing the other woman since she was locked in her memories. “Lived off the grid, taught us all how to do…all kinds of things I never thought I’d ever need to know in my life,” She huffed out a derisive snort of laughter and shook her head slightly as she looked back down at her can. Skye would have been long dead if it hadn’t been for Grant teaching her all those things she thought were unnecessary.

A few moments passed between them as they ate in silence. Jemma waited, wondering if Skye would offer her more details. She didn’t want to pry, of course, but she was curious about the woman sitting across from her and how she had become that woman.

“So when the shit really hit the fan with the outbreak,” Skye finally went on. “We had our bug out bags and a plan for how to meet up with each other and get to Grant’s place,” she stirred her soup. “It took us three days to get there, me, mom and my other brother, Trip,” she explained. Jemma could see the extra shine in Skye’s eye and knew she was fighting off her emotions. “Mom, she uh…” Skye cleared her throat and dropped her eyes. “We all made it, but mom was pretty weak. She’d been bit by one of them,” She glanced over at Jemma. “That was before we knew what it meant to be bit,” Skye fell quiet again and Jemma knew she wouldn’t get any further details on what happened to Skye’s mother. She didn’t need the details to know exactly had happened to the woman.

“Oh, Skye,” Jemma struggled to find anything that didn’t sound terribly trite. “I’m so sorry,” she frowned at her failure to come up with anything better. Skye gave her a grateful nod for the sympathy and the two fell into silence.

After they ate some more, Skye took a deep breath and spoke again. “A few weeks back we were attacked. They led a horde of them to our property, shot at us whenever we tried to find a way out.” She flinched and shook her head again. She cleared her throat. “We got separated, the three of us.” She looked over at Jemma. “I’ve been out here since. We have a meet up spot. I just have to get there. They’ll wait for me,” she insisted. “And now you’re here with me, so…we’ll get there together and we’ll figure out where to go from there.” She gave small nod as if that small jut of her head confirmed and solidified it for both of them, as if her confident insistence made it true.

“Hopefully they don’t think you’re mad for sticking your neck out for a stranger,” Jemma attempted to lighten the mood with a tiny smile.

The right side of Skye’s mouth tipped upward into a slight smirk. “Nah,” she shook her head. “They’ll think I did it because you’re cute,” she said.

Jemma’s cheeks flushed immediately. She ducked her head and busied herself with finishing off her soup. Skye regarded her for a brief moment and dug into her own food as well.

\--

After they had their fill of soup and Skye had packed up the sterno, the two settled on a decision about the town. Skye thought there were a few types of stores that they should try to check through. They might be able to find Jemma a backpack and maybe some new clothes. There was always the chance of finding a cache of supplies that hadn’t been pilfered. It was worth it to check it out. There were two of them. Skye figured they could watch each other’s backs. She made a mental note as well that she would need to get a better handle on Jemma’s skills with any kind of weapon, if she had any. Obviously with the situation they were currently in, there wasn’t much time for assessment of skills.

“I want to stick to the outer edge first,” Skye spoke quietly as she led them back through the woods and toward a back alley she had spotted earlier when they had first come upon and then backtracked from the small town. “We’ll take a fire escape to a roof and take a look at the situation, see if it’s worth it to try and scavenge our way through.” They might even find somewhere to sleep, though Skye wasn’t all that sure she would feel safe spending the night in the town. Anyone could come through at any time looking to pillage anything and everything they could for supplies. Where Skye wasn’t all that violently territorial in regard to supplies, she knew how desperate a situation could get when hunger and fear were involved. Most people lived by the ‘kill or be killed,’ code nowadays so Skye strived for ‘better safe than sorry,’ whenever she could.

Slowly, the main road began to lead to the main street of the town and Skye turned them to head around the back alley to the stores. Jemma followed as Skye skipped the first three stores. They moved slowly, each looking all around for any sign of life, threat or the undead. Each time they reached the end of a building Skye stopped them and takes her time mustering up the courage to dash from one store across the gap between them to the next. At the fourth, she discovers the ‘fire escape’ is simply a ladder connected to the building rather than a set of stairs that needs to be pulled down. Skye appreciated this since it means they won’t have to make noise tugging the rusty metal pieces down to their level. Silently she motioned to Jemma to let her know that they were climbing up this particular ladder and for her to follow. Jemma kept her back to the wall next to the ladder, looking back and forth anxiously as Skye climbed the ladder. Once she was all the way to the top, Skye hung over the ledge of the roof and Jemma felt a little more at ease climbing knowing that Skye was watching for any kind of predator that could come after her. When she reached the top, Skye took her hand and helped her over the ledge of the roof.

The roof’s edge was a roughly three foot tall wall. Skye motioned that they should duck down and then she led a careful path across the roof toward the front of the building that faced the main road, going much slower than Jemma would have imagined since she was trying to make sure there were no weak spots in the roof that they might fall through. Tucked up against the wall front wall ledge, Skye pulled her backpack off and dug through it. She came up with a compact pair of binoculars and then paused, hesitant. Jemma watched her, curious. Skye was anxious about this, more so than Jemma felt. Skye had more experience than Jemma, though.

Skye mustered her nerve with a slow, deep breath. She turned to her knees and crept up above the top edge of the roof wall. Pushing the binoculars to her eyes, Skye began to survey the area. She looked for any sign of movement, regardless of cause. Simultaneously, Skye and Jemma heard a loud groaning sound, possibly the scraping of metal, or someone yanking on one of the fire escapes that Skye and Jemma had skipped before, neither was sure. Before Skye could even turn to look in that direction, Jemma had reflexively reached up and yanked her down roughly below the ledge of the roof wall.  

 

 


	9. Are You Mad??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: squeamish tummies may roil, beware! 
> 
> Once again, posting from phoNE, sorry for typos, if you spot any major (or hilarious!) typos please let me know in the comments and I'll go back through and fix em up! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and thanks for all the kudos, comments and love!  
> <3
> 
> \-------

At first, Skye thought Jemma had seen, heard or realized something that she hadn’t and was protecting her. She looked down and spotted Jemma’s hands gripped into fists around the front of Skye’s jacket. Jemma’s eyes were wide and she was trembling with fear. Skye set the binoculars down on the roof and reached up to gently cover Jemma’s hands with her own. “Jem,” she whispered to try and break Jemma from her tranced state. Jemma blinked and seemed to finally actually focus on Skye. “It’s okay,” Skye squeezed Jemma’s hands gently but didn’t try to pry them free. “We’re alright,” she tried to sound reassuring.

It took a bit of coaxing but eventually Skye managed to snap Jemma out of the episode she was having. As soon as she came back to her senses, Jemma felt an immediate rush of embarrassment for her reaction. Skye did her best to reassure Jemma. It took some time before they could discover the source of the noise – it turned out to be a small grouping of ghouls, three of them in total from what Skye could see, in the alleyway between the building they were on top of and the one to its right. Their bumbling around had knocked them into a fire escape that had been stuck and it had retracted with a loud groan that the shambling bodies mimicked.

Skye decided they should wait to see if any more appeared at the loud noise. For the next hour she kept close to Jemma on the roof, taking careful scans with the binoculars along the rooftops, the stores and the road. When she was satisfied that the group between the buildings was the brunt of those roamers that were at least outside, she looked over at Jemma to see how she was holding up. Jemma seemed more composed now, but there was an edge of anxiety to her that Skye could see in her eyes. “We have two options for getting back to ground level,” Skye decided she would leave it up to Jemma. Jemma looked over at Skye, chewing a worry spot into the bottom corner of her lip. “We can take the ladder down and handle the three in the gap between buildings,” Skye laid the ideas and then nodded toward the access door that would lead into the building. “Or we could try the door and take our chances with whatever might be inside.”

Jemma chewed on her lip. She looked back and forth between the rooftop ladder and the door to the unknown. “I’m…I’m good with w-whatever you think is the better option,” She said.

Skye put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Stay put a minute,” she said. Slowly she made her way over to the roof access door. After a moment’s hesitation, Skye began to bang her fist on the door, making as much racket as she could. Jemma jumped at first and then huddled closer against the wall of the roof. Skye made her way back over to Jemma.

“What’d you do that for?” Jemma squeaked at her.

Skye smiled over at her. “We’ll have a better idea of what we’d be facing if we know they’re inside,” she shrugged. Jemma clenched her eyes shut and, not for the first time since she had left the compound, thought over and over about the fact that she was not made for this kind of world. As if she were reading Jemma’s mind, Skye took Jemma gently by the face. “Hey,” She said, waiting for Jemma to open her eyes. “I’ve got your back, Jem,” she said. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” she promised, also not for the first time since they had met.

Jemma swallowed hard against the lump of anxiety in her throat and nodded. Skye nodded against as well. “Let’s see what we’ve got downstairs, yeah?” she arched her eyebrows and waited for Jemma to nod. “Good. Let’s go with the knives for now. Guns’ll make too much noise, will attract the others,” she picked her backpack up and looked at Jemma. “Ready?” She asked.

Jemma let out a huff of laughter and shook her head. “Not at all,” she said, pulling the large knife Skye had given her from her belt sheath.

Skye almost chuckled. “I appreciate your honesty,” She pulled her knife from its holster and tried the knob of the door. She couldn’t decide if it was a lucky break that the knob turned or not. Either way she kept Jemma behind her and took a step back. She pulled the door open toward them and prepared to swing it in case a zombie stumbled out from the other side. When none came, Skye relaxed but only a bit. She flipped on the flashlight she had pulled from her backpack and aimed it ahead of them as she stepped in front of the doorway. “Well, here goes,” She said. “Keep a pace or two behind me in case you have to run back out,” she advised.

Jemma took a shaky breath. Skye stepped inside the landing. The landing at the bottom of the first set of stairs was empty so before she went any further, Skye leaned over and shined the light down the stairwell to look for any movement, shuffling or otherwise. When she didn’t see any, she turned to give Jemma a quick, reassuring nod and then started down the stairs. Despite what looked like an all clear, Skye still her time down to the first landing. At the bottom of the second set of stairs was the ground floor landing. There was a door that would lead into the back storage area of the store but there was also a bottom corner of the stairs. Skye halted Jemma and motioned for her to stay on the landing. She made her way down the stairs, keeping her back against the wall and looking from the door to the space she had to turn into to look at.

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she swung around with her flashlight and looked into the space next to and beneath the stairs. Jemma held her breath the whole time. Skye exhaled a small sigh of relief to see they were truly the only beings in the stairwell. She gave Jemma a grin and a thumb’s up just as something slammed into the door behind her, its bloodied face smashing up against the small window toward the top of the door. Jemma gasped and Skye jumped, turning toward the door. She flicked her flashlight off and stared at the silhouette of the figure on the other side of the door for a long moment. “Shit,” she exhaled, trying to force her pulse to a more even keel.

Jemma, meanwhile, was absolutely panicked. If Skye was freaked out, clearly Jemma should panic since thus far, Skye had been completely calm and collected in the most insanely stressful moments. Skye took a deep breath and Jemma’s eyes were wide as she moved toward the door. “Don’t open it!” She hissed.

“I’m not, yet,” Skye assured her quietly. She did her best to look around the ghouls pressed up against the door and the narrow window to see if it looked like there were anymore. The door itself was dead bolted from the side that Jemma and Skye were on so they had that going for them. Skye reached up and banged on the door a number of times like she had the roof door. The zombie on the other side of it smacked angrily at the door, clawing at it to try and get through it, groaning and snarling.

“ _Are you mad_?!” Jemma hissed through her teeth again, clutching the handle of her knife with her sweaty death grip.

“This is the best way to figure out how many there are,” Skye explained. She did think she had to be a little ‘mad’ in order to survive in the world they lived in, but that kind of conversation was best saved for later. “If there are too many, we head back to the roof and take the ladder.” She spotted another joining the one at the door and banged on it again, just to see if there were any more than the two. When she was satisfied there weren’t, she backed up the steps and set her backpack next to Jemma. She held the flashlight out to Jemma. “I need to you aim this right at the door so I can see.” She said.

Jemma frowned. She shook her head. “You can’t open it. There could be more – there are already more than you!” Her voice even trembled.

“I can handle two of them,” Skye assured her. “If anything happens, take the backpack and run for the roof. Don’t stop, don’t look back, just go. When you take the ladder down run to your right so the ones between the buildings don’t spot you,” she said. Jemma let out a sound that Skye would have classified as a squeak, but it was a verbalization of fear. “Trust me…okay?” She ducked her head to catch Jemma’s eyes since they kept straying for the door.

“Please don’t die…” Jemma pled.

A small, crooked smile curled up Skye’s lips. “For you? I’ll do my best,” she gave Jemma’s arm a squeeze. “Just keep this aimed at the door, okay?”

Jemma nodded. Skye turned, took a deep breath and headed down the stairs again toward the door. She reached for the lock on the door and watched a small tremor shudder through the ends of her fingers. She quickly balled her fist and then flexed her fingers to steady them. Shifting her weight, Skye leaned her shoulder into the door and braced her feet. She wanted to spare another glance over her shoulder but was worried it might shake Jemma’s already weak faith in her so she didn’t. Skye turned the deadbolt as slow and quiet as she could. There were still only two of them slamming against the door. Skye wrapped her hand around the doorknob after she turned that lock and slowly she turned the knob. Careful to keep the door braced, she pulled it open and leaned her face back as a gnarled hand came around the edge of it first. She gripped her knife tight in her fist and swung her arm, connecting the blade into the side of the ghoul’s neck by the base of its skull. Having effectively severed the spinal column with the swing, she pulled the knife free and shouldered the door to make the zombie fall backward.

In a surge of frenzy, the zombie still on the other side threw itself at the door. Jemma gasped as Skye threw her weight back against the door with a grunt. She tried to push the door shut so she would adjust her position and the zombie’s, she ran into trouble when a third arrived and threw itself against the door with a loud groan.

“ _Shit_ ,” Skye tried to grunt it under her breath but Jemma clearly heard it. Skye’s new game plan was to get the door shut and locked again so she could assess the situation, maybe break the glass enough to take them out through it. She was having trouble struggling against the two of them at the moment though.

Just as Skye was preparing to release the door and jump back to take on the ghouls, Jemma was suddenly down the steps and had slammed her body weight against the door hard. The door slammed shut and Skye had just enough time to flip the deadbolt before the rotting undead slammed against it again. Skye exhaled a long breath.

“Shit,” she murmured again. She looked over at Jemma. “Thanks,” she said, grateful.

Jemma’s eyes were wide. She wasn’t quite shaking yet but she jumped when one of the zombies groaned after smashing its snapping teeth against the glass of the narrow window. “N-now what?” She backed away from the door a few steps as it shook in its hinges.

Skye took a long breath, leaning heavily on the door even though it was once again locked. “Plan B,” she pulled her gun from its holster at her hip.

“Won’t that be too loud?” Jemma frowned, imagining the zombies in the alley finding their way around and into the store. She shuddered.

Skye held the gun by its barrel after ensuring the safety was on. She gave Jemma a small wink and then turned, lifted her arm above her head and swung the gun down hard, bashing the butt of the gun handle against the narrow window of glass. As soon as there was a hole in the glass, the ghouls reached for it, tearing at what was left of their fingers, further shredding the gray and black flesh with each swipe. Skye cleared as much as she could of the glass, trying to ignore her revulsion at the smell of the rotting flesh and half liquefied muscle as it came in clumps and blobs of black goo along the edges of the window. Jemma cringed and took a step back, covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

When she cleared most of the glass, Skye put her gun back into its holster. She used her knife to make sure there weren’t any shards of glass in the way and then pulled her fingerless gloves on to cover most of her hands. She tapped the bottom edge of the window and whistled as she got closer, urging the zombies to give her a kill shot to aim her knife at. It took a bit of coaxing but she got the first one, plunging the knife as far through its socket as she could to damage the brain enough to take it out. It slumped to the ground and the two bodies on the ground prevented the last one from getting close enough to the door.

“Damnit,” Skye sighed. She looked at Jemma, who was hovering halfway up the stairs. “Okay, plan C…you’re going to pull the door open and keep it in front of you, I’ll stand on the other side and get it from behind when it comes through the door.”

Jemma and Skye squabbled a bit about the plan before Jemma finally gave in. Skye moved to the other side of the door frame and Jemma took Skye’s place, leaning against the door and trying to fight off her gag reflex.

“Okay, ready?” Skye asked. Jemma clenched her eyes and nodded. “Good,” She took a deep breath and raised her knife up, gripping it tightly so the blade was sticking out from the bottom part of her fist. She bounced on her toes, ready to rumble with the undead. Jemma couldn’t believe this was her life now. “Go!”

Jemma flipped the locked, turned the knob and jumped back until her back hit the wall. The door swung open on the hinge with her and she held it tightly in front of her, pinning herself between the wall and the door. Skye anxiously waited as the zombie stumbled over the other two bodies. It went after Jemma, who was breathing heavily and had made enough movement for it to follow. Skye threw her foot out and swept the zombies legs out from under it. It face planted and Skye pounced on it, shoving the back of its head to keep its snapping, bone bare teeth against the linoleum and stabbed her knife blade through the base of its skull. All movement around them ceased but for Skye yanking her knife free and wiping it off on the tattered bits of what remained of the zombie’s shirt.

Skye picked up the flashlight Jemma had dropped and shone it into the store, checking all the corners she could from her spot. She dragged the third zombie’s body out of the way of the door. “It’s okay, let’s shut it for a minute, gather ourselves,” She said as she took the door from Jemma’s grasp. She shut the door and flipped the lock. Jemma took deep breaths through her nose, trying to prevent herself from hyperventilating but the smell of the thing in the confined space with them made her stomach roil. Before she could stop it, Jemma swung over at her waist and heaved, puking up half of the soup she had eaten not so long ago.

“Shit,” Skye murmured. She kicked the body further behind the side of the stairs and hopped over it. She shoved her knife into its holster and made sure her hands weren’t covered in ghoul goo before she ran her palm over Jemma’s back. “It’s okay,” She assured Jemma as calmly as she could. “We’re okay,” she said.

Jemma nodded but her stomach rolled again. This time she heaved but didn’t actually throw up. Skye helped her up the steps to the landing. “Sit,” Skye urged her to sit on the top step. She freed the water spout from her pack and flipped it open. “Here, take a sip,” she urged.

After a few moments, Jemma seemed to calm down. Skye was still kneeling on one of the steps in front of her, trying her best to soothe Jemma’s fears. “I’m sorry,” Jemma murmured, calmer now.

Skye shook her head. “Hey, it’s alright,” She gave Jemma’s shoulder a squeeze and then glanced at the door. “I’m going to go down and bang on the door a few more times, just to make sure we got all of ‘em…okay?” she arched her eyebrows.

Jemma let out a shaky breath and looked at the door. She nodded, hesitant but agreeable. Skye offered her a warm smile. She climbed back down the steps and banged on the door a few more times, loudly, over the next twenty minutes. When they were both satisfied that the store was now empty, they opened the door and cautiously stepped into the store’s back storage area to check that first before they were to move on to the main area of the store.


	10. Long as I'm Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've been sick for alost two weeks now. And it's my birthday. And I'm stuck at work with my chest cold. 
> 
> Therefore my gift to you on this, the anniversary of my existence....is a dose of fiction. 
> 
> I haven't spell/grammar checked this due to reasons mentioned above so if there's anything glaringly terrible typo-wise please let me know! 
> 
> Warnings: ....I'm not sure this chap really has any specific warnings? (Panyan, please correct this is I am wrong!)

Skye and Jemma’s exploration of Main Street turned into a more bountiful haul than Skye would have thought possible. The key, Grant had always told her, was to know what was useful and how it could be useful when other people thought it wasn’t. While people would easily clear out the food and water sections of a convenience store/pharmacy, they wouldn’t think to check for baby water in the pharmacy section itself. Much in the way no one had raided the cooking sternos from the catering van, Skye searched buildings for _anything_ that could be of use. She gathered items in a basket or a temporary bag and then would later sort out the haul to see if anything should be left behind. She was careful of items that might be too heavy or cumbersome.

The first store they entered had been an hunting and fishing shop. It had provided them with an extra revolver and a couple boxes of ammo that had been hidden and missed by earlier looters. It gave them options for new clothes for Jemma. They managed to outfit her in some brown cargo pants, a thermal undershirt with her own hoodie thrown over it. They found her a suitable jacket as well. Extra clothes – T-shirts and thermals, socks, etc. – were tossed in the haul pile to sort through later. Skye set aside a pair of boots that Jemma had tried on, but had instructed her not to wear yet as they would need to find time to break them in first so that Jemma didn’t end up with foot injuries while they were on their hike. For now, her sneakers would suffice.

They found a sturdy, lightweight backpack for Jemma as well. She loaded her messenger bag into it, slipped it over her shoulder and stuck close to Skye, observing her and making mental notes while they searched. Skye found a compound bow that could fold up and unfold in seconds flat with the pull of a latch on one particular section of it. She took that and a box of arrow bolts she had found and put them into their haul pile with some other odds and ends that included a couple of fishing hand lines, lures and fake rubber bait.

And that was all just from the first store. They took a very small break so Skye could sort through items and repack her backpack and Jemma’s new backpack and could make a snack out of an unopened bag of beef jerky they’d found in the search. After their break, the pair climbed back up to the roof of the building. Skye made another sweep of what she could see of the town, always wanting to take stock of her surroundings in detail. When she was satisfied they were alone at the moment but for the three zombies still in the alleyway between the buildings, she unfolded the bow and let it assemble quickly into place. She carried 3 of the  bolts with her to the edge of the building and glanced over the side.

Jemma watched Skye as she calculated her options, noting that she was always very careful to take stock of everything – sometimes in less time than it took Jemma to process a situation entirely. After a moment, Skye loaded the bow, aimed for a target carefully before taking a deep breath, holding it as she wound the bow back. It was all very fluid, only one or two seconds elapsing between aiming, inhaling as she pulled back and releasing the arrow. Jemma cringed every time an arrow struck its target but Skye hit each of them with precision, leaving each one a heaped pile of already rotted flesh on the ground. Skye surveyed her work for a moment and then gave a final nod, satisfied by the result.

“You don’t like the idea of leaving them behind while still animated,” Jemma spoke.

Skye looked over at her as she pulled the lever and collapsed the bow almost as quickly as she had assembled it. She pulled at the lever a few more times, practicing the technique of assembly and storage, seeing how easy it would be to clasp and unclasp it to her belt by the hook she’d attached to it. It was the bare beginnings of committing the action to muscle memory. Skye shrugged. “I have some very specific skillsets thanks to my brothers. Granted, I thought they were a little crazy in their paranoia but, that doesn’t much matter now, right?”

Jemma arched her eyebrows, curious about where Skye might be going with her answer. “Yes,” She confirmed with a slight nod of her head as she said it. She watched Skye’s face, regarding her as she made her case.

“The next people who come along,” Skye went on, “they might not have those kinds of skills,” she walked to her backpack and crouched down to store the rest of the arrows into a quiver she had carefully affixed to the side of her backpack. She had picked one that would leave the arrows completely sheathed to prevent them from spilling out all over the place. This was a weapon they could use for hunting and from the safety of the trees. It was not something she’d be able to use while in flight. She glanced up at Jemma from where she was crouched. “I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself if I had the chance to take as many of them out as possible to keep them from turning anyone else into one of their undead legion of cannibals.” Skye confessed. “So…if it’s a situation like this, where we have the opportunity,” she shrugged, “I’ll take it. If it’s a dicey situation and there’s no time or no way to do it safely enough…that’s another story but I will damn sure take as many of them out as I can, yeah.”

Jemma considered this quietly for a long few moments. Her silent contemplation must have unnerved Skye because she was a bit forceful as she zipped her pack shut and stood, hoisting the pack onto her shoulders and clasping the chest strap in a quick fluid motion. Muscle memory.

“You think I’m, like, barbaric or heartless or something because of it?” Skye was already starting for the roof’s ladder as she asked the question.

Jemma blinked in surprise. She hurried to catch up with Skye. “Hey, Skye, wait hold on a second,” Jemma was very careful as she reached for Skye’s arm to make sure it didn’t come off as a threatening gesture. Skye stopped and turned but only halfway so she was staring across the side of the roof rather than looking directly at Jemma. Jemma realized that she had been so awestruck by Skye’s ability to mentally and emotionally shoulder the kind of things she had done, she had failed to recognize that brushing heavy situations like that off was usually done as a coping mechanism. Skye kept her eyes averted from Jemma’s, but she had at least stopped to listen to whatever Jemma was about to say to her.

“I don’t think you are either of those things,” Jemma said. She reluctantly let her hand drop to her side. “You’ve saved my life half a dozen times and you barely even know me. You’ve done things I’ve been too scared to do and you’ve done them with…an immense amount of courage I could never begin to even hope to emulate,” Jemma took half a step closer. “The fact that you are cognizant enough to the world around you that you want to protect hypothetical travelers that might come after you…I think you’re amazing,” she confessed, unabashed of her assessment of the situation.

Skye was silent but her face had softened a bit as Jemma spoke. She felt foolish for her outburst. She had been taught better; it was important to keep control over one’s emotions in these kinds of situations. Keeping a cool, level head could easily be the difference between life and death in any given situation. The idea, in that moment not so long ago, that Jemma might think terribly of her for her actions had gone under her skin before Skye had realized it. Skye dropped her gaze to her feet. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Please don’t be,” Jemma reached for Skye again and landed a spot on the edge of her wrist and hand. She hesitated, aware that she might be stepping over the line and wanting to tread very lightly while still being as supportive as she thought Skye had been for her in kind. “You don’t have to shoulder it alone, now,” Jemma didn’t want to take anything from Skye that she couldn’t give in return. Offering Skye some form of mental fortitude was the absolute least Jemma could do in return for the immense generosity and tenderness Skye had shown her. “If you need to, I-,”

“Thank you,” Skye blurted to cut Jemma off. Her eyes met Jemma’s and Jemma was struck as she realized that, for the first time, they were completely unguarded against the insecurity, self-doubt and pain showcased in Skye’s gaze. It was only a moment and then it was gone, hidden behind her carefully guarded gaze. She offered a grateful smile and squeezed Jemma’s hand. “Thank you,” Skye said in earnest again.

Jemma understood. This wasn’t the time, not now. She gave Skye a solemn nod of understanding and without another word they began the climb down from the roof back to the ground together.

\--

They searched through two more stores and then came upon a small restaurant. Skye was reluctant to enter a food establishment. So far in her searches, the few bars, pubs or cafes she had come across had led to the highest instances of being swarmed. Skye chewed her bottom lip as they hung by the backdoor of the place, debating. On the one hand, they were going to need more food for two of them, if possible to scrounge. On the other hand…someone had padlocked this door from the outside.

“You don’t feel right about it?” Jemma asked. She wasn’t at all sure what kind of trick Skye had for opening a padlock but the restaurant did have front windows that could be broken she supposed, if they wanted to make noise. After the first building, Jemma felt fearful of having to make noise to draw out any of those wretched things. But she had given herself over to Skye’s decisions back on the rooftop, so it was down to Skye’s expertise.

Skye chewed on her bottom lip. Something just didn’t feel right in her gut. She glanced back and forth along the alley, just to make sure nothing and no one had snuck up on them and then she took a tentative step toward the locked door.

“Skye,” Jemma breathed her name, anxious and wound up from their earlier exploits and from the unsettled expression on Skye’s face.

“I’m not opening it,” Skye murmured back to her. She stepped close to the door and bent far enough forward to press her ear to it. She reached up and plugged her other ear with her finger and then closed her eyes to listen for any sounds of movement, or worse, inside.  

 Jemma unconsciously wrapped her hand around the hilt of the knife hooked to her belt. She sent a few squirrely glances around them as if she expected an entire swarm of dead things to come bursting around the corner like a tidal wave of groaning cannibalistic white water rapids. She jumped, startled when Skye stood back up and took a step back.

“What?” Jemma asked. “What is it? Are they in there? Can you hear them?”

Skye frowned, her brow a mess or worry creases. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and then up at the sky for a moment. Her eyes came back down to the door. Finally she gave her head a shake. “It’s too late in the day to risk it,” she decided.

Jemma’s shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit in relief. She arched her eyebrows as she waited for Skye to look at her, patiently anticipating word on what their next move would be instead.

Skye stared at the door for another uneasy moment. “We’ll go back to the book store,” she announced. Her eyes finally met Jemma’s. “The second floor storage looked untouched, no supply cache, no bedding, nothing lurking.” She nodded at her own game plan, giving herself the reassurance that it was the right call.

Jemma nodded. “A snack wouldn’t hurt either,” She said and her stomach gurgled lightly in response.

Skye’s face shifted and a soft chuckle escaped her. “You did toss your cookies awhile back,” and had only replaced her lunch with a bit of beef jerky. Dinner was in order, dinner and some rest.

\--

Jemma searched through a stack of books she had gathered while Skye cooked them a can of beef stew and a can of chili to share over a sterno can. Jemma had asked if she could help with the cooking but Skye had assured her it would just take a few minutes and had let Jemma go rummaging through the armful of books they had collected on the way back through the bookstore. Before setting up to cook, Skye had strewn a few well placed ‘alarms’ over the steps and in the hallway. A couple of different steps had handfuls of broken glass shards spread across them, scattered to look random and less noticeable. She had drawn on a stretch of dental floss and tied it across the hallway on either side of the door, low toward the ground so that they were barely visible in the dark hallway. When gently knocking into the cord, it would jingle empty cans and can lids that were stationed nearby looking like randomly tossed debris. That was in addition to the barricade of shelving they had braced the door with (something Skye had only been comfortable doing because they had windows that let out to an awning that they could use as an escape route if necessary). They had covered the windows with thick tarpaulins they’d found in the storage area so they would be able to use the lanterns in the dark.

Skye had questions. These questions had been nagging at her since she met Jemma by the creek side. Jemma had been traumatized and Skye didn’t want to push her. They were travelling together and Jemma was extremely skittish with the zombies and strangers. Skye couldn’t blame her for the nerves on either front. She needed Jemma to have a clear enough head to process whatever was thrown at them, however, so Skye was reluctant to push Jemma to talk about the situation she had escaped. She did learn some things about Jemma’s past before the Outbreak but it had been mundane information. Well, it hadn’t been useless information as Skye asking questions about who Jemma was helped to distract Jemma from the terrible things they had witnessed together so far. But it had not given Skye pertinent information about what had led to Jemma’s trauma. The only thing she had been able to assume was that Jemma had been sheltered in place wherever she had been since the start of the outbreak and had not experienced living outside among the hordes, the survivalists, the military factions, the gangs or the depraved packs of feral humans.

“Food’s done,” Skye spoke softly so as not to startle Jemma, who knelt sitting on her heels by her small mountain of books. Skye hadn’t caught the titles but Jemma seemed to be trying to absorb everything she possibly could in their time there in the dim lantern light. Jemma’s freckled brow creased, deep in thought. Her lips moved slightly as she mouthed out the sentences her fingers traced on the pages.

When Skye spoke, Jemma nodded absently. Skye stirred a spork in each can of food. A moment later, Jemma sat down at Skye’s side on top of her rolled out sleeping bag. Skye was sudden acutely aware of the warmth that invaded her personal space as Jemma’s hip and leg brushed along her crossed legs. Comfort; it was something Skye hadn’t allowed herself to indulge in since she and her brothers were separated. Now she had the urge to wrap her arms around Jemma, bury her face into the crook of Jemma’s neck and stay there as long as possible. She exhaled a slow breath and wrapped a rag from their earlier haul around each can and picked them both up.

“Beef stew or Chili?” Skye twisted her lips into a small smile as she made the offer.

Jemma looked over and eyed the cans as if in deep thought about this life choice. “Switch halfway?” she suggested, unsure which of the two Skye would prefer but already knowing Skye would take whatever she didn’t pick.

Skye arched her eyebrows slightly. She hadn’t expected that answer. “Fair enough, which do you wanna start with?” She placed the ball right back in Jemma’s court.

“Mm…chili?” Jemma shrugged and Skye handed it over. Jemma settled the thick book down into her lap and took the can with an earnest, “Thank you.”

Skye nodded. She cupped the can of beef stew in one hand and stirred the contents with her spork. Eyeing up the book, she nodded to it. “Let me guess, New York Times Bestseller, the latest gripping espionage thriller from…James Patterson?” She teased, squinted her eyes and let the right corner of her mouth turn upward.

Jemma blinked and looked over. It took a moment to register the joke and then she smiled. It was just a tiny smile but the fact that it existed caused a stir of flutters in Skye’s chest. She definitely hadn’t felt those kinds of urges in a long, long time. Skye did her best to ignore the feeling so she could listen to Jemma’s response. Jemma finished chewing a mouthful of chili, put her spork down in the can and lifted the book to show Skye the cover.

_The SAS Survival Handbook_ by John ‘Lofty’ Wiseman; Skye was well acquainted with this book. She had practically memorized it, cover to cover, during the summer she had turned sixteen at Grant’s insistence. She thought her brother had been a bit off his rocker by then but he had come back from his military service with a hefty dose of PTSD and extreme paranoia. At the time, Skye had been so relieved that her brother had returned at all, with all his limbs intact and minimal scarring, that she was more than happy to play along just to spend free time with him. If it helped ease his mind to make sure his family was prepared for the worst and kept him on an even keel, who was Skye to turn it down? Skye would surely be dead by now if it hadn’t been for those years of training and learning.

“I’m behind the curve,” Jemma told her. “I don’t want to slow you down or put your life in jeopardy with my own lacking skillsets. I will pull my weight.”

Skye’s eyes shifted from the book cover and her thoughts about her brother, to Jemma’s face. Jemma looked troubled but determined. “You’ll learn as we go,” Skye offered her a reassuring smile. “Are you planning on taking it with you?” she asked as she scooped a sporkful of the stew from the can. “In your pack?”

“Perhaps for a couple of days,” Jemma decided with a small nod. She earmarked the book page she was on and then set the book aside. Skye wasn’t sure if she imagined it in light of her own current urges, but she thought the other woman leaned tighter against her side. Skye didn’t dare comment on it, afraid it might scare Jemma off and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Speed reader, huh?” Skye murmured. She tried to focus on the can of food in her hands, on eating slowly to trick her stomach into feeling fuller, to prolong the feeling of connection and ease that came along with companionship. Skye had lost her brothers but she was no longer alone.

“Oh, erm,” Jemma mashed around the food in her mouth and swallowed. She licked a bit of excess sauce from the corner of her lips and pretended she hadn’t noticed Skye’s eyes dart briefly toward her mouth. “I have eidetic memory,” She said. Skye’s right eyebrow arched upward. “Photographic,” Jemma amended. “Makes memorization and visualization a great deal easier,” she added in a softer tone.

At first, Skye’s expression shifted, impressed with this knowledge of Jemma. Then the reality of having a photographic memory in a post-apocalyptic zombie wasteland set in. Skye’s face contorted as she dropped her eyes to the contents of her stew can. Her mind wandered to dark places, wondering just what Jemma must have been seeing in her mind’s eye back in the barn when just the sound of one of the strangers’ voices had left her so terrified she had shaken like a tree branch in hurricane force winds. Skye frowned.

Jemma sensed where the new information took Skye and nudged Skye’s arm lightly with her elbow. “Switch?” she held the chili can out toward Skye, relieved that there was something distracting to concentrate on, like the fact that they were both halfway through the cans of food.

“Oh,” Skye glanced at her can and nodded. Their fingers brushed lightly together as they switched cans. Silence grew between them as they slowly finished their meals; Jemma struggled to think up a topic to distract them and Skye struggled to bite her tongue as a million questions flooded her mind.

When they finished their food, Skye routed through one of the bags and came out with a can of fruit cup. She relit the sterno and opened the can so she could bring its contents to a boil for a couple of minutes, not willing to chance food poisoning for the sake of room temperature fruit cocktail.

“Think of it like…fruit cocktail brulee,” Skye joked, trying to bring some levity back to them. Jemma had flashed a grateful smile and a small chuckle had escaped her. She was more than happy to indulge in such a delicacy.

\--

After dinner, Jemma went back to her reading while Skye busied herself with her nightly organization and mental inventory of their gear. Though the silence had lapsed between them again, it wasn’t all that uncomfortable. There was an unspoken treaty between them; neither one of them would part the other’s side even if they were both set at completely separate tasks right then.

The day had been long, but at last, with a decent enough meal in their stomachs, they laid their sleeping bags out, side by side, using their backpacks as makeshift pillows and settled in for the night. The lantern was turned off and Jemma closed her eyes. Skye allowed her eyes to slowly adjust to the darkness. Eventually, lying on her side facing Jemma, she made out the other woman’s rough form in the dark. Jemma rested face down on her stomach, her head turned in Skye’s direction and her hand resting next to her shoulder and face.

Skye listened to the silence around them, accented only by the soft sounds of their breathing. She strained her ears for a few long moments, listening for any other faint sounds outside their temporary refuge. For the moment all was quiet but for their breathing. She hesitated but reached out to lay her hand over top of Jemma’s, like she had in the barn. Skye knew this time that Jemma was still awake, though. Jemma tensed and Skye’s grip instantly loosened. Just as she was preparing to pull her hand free, Jemma’s hand turned and curled around Skye’s. Skye couldn’t tell for sure if Jemma’s eyes were open or closed, light from the moon or the one of two street lights with working solar panels (that hadn’t suffered broken light bulbs) to peek through their curtained off windows.

“Jem?” Skye whispered across the small space between them.

Jemma hesitated. After a moment, she asked and equally soft, “…Yea?”

Skye licked her dry lips and swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “I don’t…” She frowned and wondered how she should phrase what it was she wanted to tell Jemma, what she thought the other woman should know. “Um,” Skye cleared her throat. “I don’t know where you were, before, or…or what they did to you,” She felt Jemma tense again but instead of letting go, tried to give Jemma’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “A-and I’m not…I’m not trying to ask about it or pry it out of you or anything,” she said quickly. Skye let those words sink in. Jemma didn’t quite relax all the way. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she was also still holding onto Skye’s hand. “I just, um…I just want you to know,” Skye went on. “As long as I’m breathing, Jem, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” They hadn’t known each other all that long but Skye made the vow anyway, in earnest. She held her breath in the silence that followed between them, unsure how Jemma might react.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity for Skye, Jemma let go of her hand. Skye mentally berated herself for possibly upsetting Jemma and she quickly began to work up an apology. “I’m sorry, Jemma, it’s just that I-,”

Before Skye could finish the apology, Jemma shifted and scooted and the next thing Skye knew, she had reflexively wrapped an arm around Jemma, who had curled into her side against the bunched padding of the sleeping bags. Other than the arm she had wrapped around Jemma, Skye remained still, afraid to move and entirely fine with having Jemma curled into her embrace, face pressed into her collar. Skye closed her eyes momentarily. It wasn’t like the barn, when she was trying her best to comfort Jemma after the woman’s sudden crying jag.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you for the things you’ve done for me,” Jemma’s voice was wrought, choked emotion that she fought through to murmur her words.

Skye’s hand moved against the sleeping bag, up the middle of Jemma’s back until she had gently cradled the back of her head, pulled her closer.  “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone,” It was a plea, Skye knew it. She felt pathetic for making it, for the weakness her brother would have chided her for having but Skye knew she couldn’t survive alone. She had already tried and however well she had covered it up after meeting Jemma, Skye was not okay. Skye hadn’t been okay for a long time.

Jemma shifted again and Skye loosened her grip, trying not to frown at the idea that the other woman anted to pull away. Jemma, for her part, tugged at the zippers on both her and Skye’s sleeping bags until she felt they were far enough out of the way. Then she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around Skye’s shoulders and pulled her into a tight embrace. Before she could think better of it, Skye buried her face into the crook of Jemma’s neck and worked her arms under the sleeping bag to wrap them around Jemma, holding tightly to the material of Jemma’s shirts against her back. It was fierce, and desperate in need. Neither of them spoke another word. They merely held onto each other and that was how they eventually fell asleep.

 

 


	11. Everything Had a Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Dear Panyan...I'm sorry.   
>  This chap contains angst, action, anxiety and violence. 
> 
> Am posting from my phone, tried to spell/grammar check but I know there are errors in this chapter, please forgive me! If there are any glaringly terrible ones please let me know and I'll fix them! 
> 
> note: I am not a scientist, though I do read a lot of nonfiction books on a wide array of topics (including but not limites to plagues and viruses) . That being said, this is fiction and meant to be fun so l'm going to use my limited knowledge to sometimes be vague about the science end of anything involving viruses and plagues and what not. I'll try to be as realistic as possible (in a fictional zombie apocalypse) as always!
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and for the kudos, comments and love! You are all awesome. I hope you have a wonderfull holiday season and happy healthy new year, stay safe and be kind to each other!!   
> <3 <3  
> :D
> 
> \----------------

****In the night, Skye and Jemma had stirred. In a half-awake/half-asleep fumble, they’d unzipped their sleeping bags completely and rearranged them so one was unzipped and open flat on the floor and the other was unzipped and wrapped on top of them as a shared blanket after they had curled together once more with their makeshift backpack pillows. Even though Jemma woke up shortly after sunrise, she found that she actually felt some level of ‘rested.’ Even before she had escaped the compound, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt any semblance of well rested. For a long time, she laid as perfectly still as she possibly could, her back pressed snugly against Skye with the taller woman’s arms wrapped around her, their fingers curled together. Warm puffs of air came in bursts against the back of Jemma’s jaw with each of Skye’s even exhales.

It was hard for Jemma to quantify the comfort she felt in the simple act of lying there in their makeshift bed with Skye. They could have been considered strangers, acquaintances even but they had been through a great deal together since they had met and that didn't include all that'd happened to each of them in the time before that. At the moment what it boiled down to for Jemma was that she was loathe to the idea of moving a single inch for fear of waking Skye and bringing the brief moment of solace to an end.

As if she sensed either that Jemma was awake or that the sun came up (or maybe both?), Skye stirred behind her. Jemma heard the sharp, deep inhale Skye took through her nose and felt the shift of weight as Skye stretched her back and legs. Jemma felt the hesitation as Skye mentally processed the situation and tried to decide what to do. Jemma curled her fingers, squeezing her loose grip on Skye’s hand just a little bit. Skye froze for a moment and Jemma leaned back into her. She almost smiled when Skye’s arm reflexively tightened around her middle.

“Hey,” Skye’s murmur came in a thick, low, groggy tone. Jemma was silent. Skye shifted, lifted her head up to glance over Jemma’s shoulder, suddenly unsure if Jemma was actually awake. Jemma’s head was turned down but her eyes were open as she watched her and Skye’s joined hands. Skye unconsciously stroked her thumb over the back of Jemma’s hand.“You okay?” Skye asked. Her tone was still thick with sleep but it was gentle and already laced with concern.

Jemma nodded her head once so slightly that Skye wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Skye waited, wanting to know if Jemma was uncomfortable with their positions but Jemma had been the one to squeeze her hand and she hadn’t moved away. Skye knew they should get the day started but something stopped her and instead she waited to see what Jemma would say or do, if anything.

“I worked for the World Health Organization,” Jemma suddenly said after long moments of silence. “Before…all of this.”

 Skye’s brow furrowed. Jemma didn’t look at her but Skye worried her gaze might make the other woman uncomfortable, so she laid her head back down on her backpack and squeezed Jemma’s hand, hoping to prompt her to continue whatever she wanted to say.

“I worked under the Offices of Rare and Infectious Diseases,” Jemma took her time as she went on. Skye listened intently. She squeezed Jemma’s hand occasionally to let the woman know that she was listening but remained quiet to let her know it was alright to take her time, however long she needed. “Five weeks prior to what they considered the official outbreak, we received reports of an unknown, potentially infectious pathogen. A Brazilian doctor returning from work in Haiti presented severe flu-like symptoms –fever, chills, cough and congestion – as well as skin lesions. At the terminal he collapsed into convulsions while suffering epistaxis-,”Jemma paused a moment, realizing she had started to go into technical work mode. She took a slow breath and steadied her voice. “It presented as a hemorrhagic fever.”

Skye nodded. She tightened her arm gently around Jemma’s middle and squeezed her hand. Skye could start to see where this was leading but she didn’t want to interrupt. She wanted Jemma to be able to get the words out. She wanted to _know_ all the details Jemma was willing to share.

“Three days passed before my team arrived on site in Port-au Prince.” Jemma said. “By then, the initial patient and thirteen bystanders from the airport, including staff and medics were infected, in the end stages of the disease or…”Jemma hesitated.

“Already re-animated,” Skye quietly supplied for her.

Jemma exhaled the breath she’d held for a moment and nodded. She clenched her eyes and cleared her throat. “Two days later, they evacuated what was left of our team to a CDC facility in Virginia. We worked individually from our quarantined quarters in the biosafety level four laboratories. It was…” Jemma trailed off again.

Skye waited, giving a full thirty second count in her head before she spoke. “Hey,”Skye squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Jem, you don’t have to-,”

“I’ve seen entire villages wiped out by viruses worse than…than rabies and Ebola, and…” Jemma closed her eyes again for a moment. “But this was…” She couldn’t find the words and the fact that this was the case still disturbed Jemma to her core. Words had failed her more in the last few months than ever in her life since she was old enough to actually speak. Jemma exhaled a shaky breath. “Like nothing I've ever seen,” she whispered.

“One of the men on my team, he presented no symptoms in the three day potential incubation period. He hadn’t been bit. He had, however, been scratched. He collapsed on the fourth day. Security rushed for him. We couldn’t stop them in time.” Jemma closed her eyes and grimaced again. Skye felt Jemma’s muscles as they tensed. She wrapped her arms tighter around Jemma and pulled her back to hold her closer as she thought about that tidbit of information she’d learned about Jemma the night before; photographic memory.

For a long while, they laid silent and still but for a sniffle or two from Jemma. “It spread so quickly. They forced the rest of us into our gear suits and transported us in isolation to the facility in Connecticut,” Her voice was even quieter than it had been during the beginning of the story. “The facility in Virginia went through emergency decontamination.” Jemma said. Skye didn’t need the picture painted to know that meant it was destroyed in some kind of massive fireball. “It had already traveled outside the facility by then, from other travelers. Globalization is the hardest threat to tackle swiftly when millions of people can cross nearly the entire globe in under a single day. Before symptoms appear they’re back in their home country with possibly no idea what they’ve come into contact with and no idea that they’re about to endanger their family and friends-,” Jemma cut herself off again and sniffled. Skye squeezed her hand.

“They quarantined us for two weeks.”Jemma murmured. “I spent those weeks watching the coverage on the news they’d give us access to until they channels blacked out, one by one. They wouldn’t give us updates. They wouldn’t let us help. We were locked in there waiting to die or to be released and sent back to work.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Skye breathed. She hadn’t meant to expel the expletive. She’d been trying to be as quiet and open to whatever Jemma had to say but picturing the scenario made her insides wobble. “I’m sor-,”

“No, no, it’s,” Jemma cleared her throat again. “I know.” She said. “I was…I was lucky. Once they released us for quarantine, I was still safe. We were contained. The compound was far from any large population. It was self-contained. There were generators, but it subsisted off of wind and solar power first and foremost. It had its own fresh water source and that didn’t include its filtration capabilities. Including my team they were only at a half their staff capacity and that as with the military units.” Jemma took a breath and exhaled it slowly. “They knew our samples were the closest available to patient zero-,”

“Patient zero?” Skye asked.

“Patient zero is the term we use for the first known patient to present symptoms. The closer we get to the first person infected with the disease, the better out chances of studying how it works in order to find some way for our bodies to fight the invasion off.” Jemma seemed to calm down as she explained the term so Skye filed that away in her brain as a way to help Jemma out in the future whenever the next high stress situation happened upon them.

“So…they built up their stronghold around your team in that facility?” Skye asked since she had derailed Jemma’s original thought.

Jemma nodded. “They…” She fell quiet again. “Everything had a price,” Jemma went on. “Food, water, clothes –everything was added to a running tab. It was paid off in assigned work. We weren’t allowed to turn down assignments. No one was allowed to leave once they were there,” Jemma sniffled. “T-There were…there were punishments for stepping out of line or, f-for…” she couldn’t finish the sentence.

 Skye didn’t want to push her so she spoke up. “Hey,” she murmured the word into Jemma’s ear, gentle and, hopefully, reassuring. “You don’t have to say anything else, Jem,” she squeezed Jemma’s hand. Jemma sniffled. Her shoulders shook and she turned her head down in embarrassment but Skye merely held onto her.

“You got away,” Skye reminded her. “You’re safe now.” Okay, ‘safe’ was relative but she trusted Jemma would understand what she meant. “We’re not heading in a completely different direction than that. Even if they had a chance of finding us now…I won’t let anything happen to you,”Skye kept her tone firm and decisive as she made this vow. “I promise.”

“Thank you…” Jemma stammered the words through the emotion in her throat. It was all she had right then to offer to Skye.

“You’re welcome,” Skye squeezed her hand again. For an immeasurable amount of time, they stayed there, curled together, silent but for the occasional sniffle.

“Skye?” Jemma broke the silence eventually.

“Yeah?” Skye held her breath, waiting to see if Jemma felt like she had to continue her story. It was obvious there was more to the story and Jemma had offered so much of it already, Skye wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach hearing what the punishments consisted of, or any more details on what Jemma went through in those evacuations. She felt just a little sliver less guilt for killing those men in the barn after hearing just the information Jemma had divulged so far. She felt angry as she imagined the system, choosing whether or not to eat based on what you would owe in return for it. Skye had already felt almost instantly protective of Jemma, after the state she’d come across the woman in when they met; she felt like that feeling had compounded exponentially with this new information.

“…I have to pee,” Jemma whispered, cheeks flushing a shade of pink.

Skye let out a startled snort of laughter, wholly unprepared for that after the conversation they’d just had. “Okay, let’s get moving for the day,” She gave Jemma one last gentle squeeze and then shifted to let her go. Jemma moved, reluctantly, and crawled to her feet to stretch and crack her joints. Skye crawled her way out from the covers and cracked her back as she shuffled toward the windows to carefully peek out past a crack in the rugs and tarps hanging over them and get a look at the street.

\--

Once they had taken care of their business and breakfast, Skye and Jemma packed up their gear and took the stairs out up to the rooftop to scout for any movement along the street to indicate that someone or something had joined their scavenging and roaming in the night. Noon was still a few hours off when they decided it was safe to go back to their rummaging. They started with the café. After checking the back door again, Skye and Jemma started around the building. When they reached the front, Skye tried to look through the windows but it was too dark to really see inside and there was too much in the way to give a good idea. Skye exchanged a glance with Jemma and then knocked fairly loud on the window of the restaurant. Jemma jumped; startled slightly even though she knew the sound was coming.

“So…?” Jemma asked her eyebrows.

Skye knocked hard on the window again. She looked over at Jemma then and shrugged her shoulders up slightly.“Now…we wait,” she said as she forced her lips into a thin lined smile.

“You still feel off about it?” Jemma asked as she carefully regarded Skye’s face.

Skye glanced toward the windows of the restaurant and then over at Jemma. “I’ve had some bad luck with restaurants in the past…” She squinted and leaned slightly to look past Jemma’s shoulder when something caught her eye.

Jemma watched as Skye side stepped her and took a few small steps along the shaded sidewalk under the awning that hung over the café’s outdoor patio. She could have sworn she had seen movement. Was it an animal or a zombie? Or worse, was it another human?

Two things happened nearly simultaneously after that; a zombie threw itself against the glass window behind Jemma and Jemma let out a shrill scream as she jumped. Skye had already yanked her gun from its holster and flipped the safety off so that within a second of the scream, she was already aiming the weapon.

Jemma clamped a hand over her mouth and bent over, gasping for air for a moment as her heart raced impossibly fast. She moved away from the window a few feet and Skye realized what had happened so she holstered her gun and reached out to steady Jemma. “Alright?”Skye asked. Jemma exhaled a shaky breath and apologized as she nodded. Skye stepped to the window as the ghoul and sluggish partner that had followed it scratched at the glass. She felt a shudder roll down her spine as she heard the ghastly half-groaned hisses they made.

While Skye was frowning at the two zombies inside the store, Jemma leaned over and put her hand so on her knees as she took a few steadying breaths. She looked up and spotted something in the street. She blanched at first and then realized it was a little boy, ambling in the opposite direction from them. Quickly, she looked back and forth up the street for any sign of the boy’s parents. She was about to say something to Skye when she spotted half a dozen shuffling, groaning zombies heading up the street in the distance in the direction of the little boy.

“STOP!” Jemma shouted. She tried to step quickly around the tables and chairs that lay in an array of mess around the ‘outdoor patio’ area of the café, which was fenced in with a 2 foot tall wrought iron railing.

Skye’s head whipped around. It took her a few seconds to assess the situation. She spotted Jemma scrambling after her outburst, spotted the roaming group of ghouls, the small boy walking in jerky movements but it was the glint of light that reflected off of something on the roof of a building across the street that sent Skye into motion.

“JEM, WAIT!” At the sound of Jemma and Skye’s screams, the boy’s movements shifted and he turned around. Jemma froze when she saw that half of his face had been torn away. He started shuffling their way as Skye simultaneously wrapped an arm around Jemma’s waist and dragged her to the pavement and pulled her gun back out of its holster in the process. In the same moment that she had grabbed Jemma under one of the head concrete round tables of the patio, a bullet buzzed past them and crashed through the window of the café that was holding back the two zombies.

Skye pulled Jemma so she was positioned with the best cover under the table and against its trunk. Her heart hammered as she turned to see the zombies falling out of through the broken window and dragging themselves to their feet slowly. The boy in the street was still fifty yards away and the other half dozen were further than that. Skye swung her hand up in the direction of the store across the street’s roof and shot one round off. Jemma let out a reactionary scream. After her initial shot, Skye leaned around the table, aimed for the roof and as soon as the person hiding on the roof popped up to aim, Skye squeezed the trigger of her gun with practiced ease, ignoring the explosive echo all around them from the sound. The man on the roof took one directly in the heart and fell forward, toppling from the room to the ground with a sickening crunch and splatter. The group of zombies angled for him at a slow pace and the boy with half a face adjusted his course again.

“Skye!” Jemma tried to wrestle Skye’s knife free from the holster on her hip as the two from the broken window came their way. Skye turned around in time to grab a metal chair and brace it out in front of her to keep them from getting close for a moment. She grunt and ground her teeth and pushed as hard as she could until she had knocked them back a few feet to give herself enough time to adjust. She didn’t have time to pull her knife so she aimed and fired and hit the first one in the middle of the forehead. It collapsed and Skye spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She aimed and fired at it and hit a runner in the leg, a woman who had been heading for the dead body of the man she had shot from the roof. The woman dropped her gun as she tumbled and rolled on the sidewalk and the scream she let out led some of the ghouls to adjust their courses again. The last one from the caféseemed intent on eating Skye, though and kept coming for her. Skye swung her foot and kicked its legs out from under it. She roughly yanked her knife from its holster and scrambled to bury it to the hilt through the ghoul’s neck to sever its brainstem. She yanked the knife free when the ghoul stopped moving and wiped it off on the thing’s shirt. She shoved her knife back into its holster and turned to Jemma.

“Are you hurt?” Skye asked?

Jemma was shaking rather terribly but she shook her head. “N-No…No, I…I’m-,”

“Forget it,” Skye said quickly. She grabbed for something to throw, anything and came up with the zombie’s battered shoe. She checked what she could see of the street and didn’t see movement other than the zombies, who were chasing after the wounded woman. Skye checked her gun and made sure she had a round chambered. She handed the shoe to Jemma, who grimaced. “On my mark, I want you to blindly throw this over the table and into the street. Got it?” Skye asked. Jemma nodded. “Now!”

Jemma lobbed the shoe and Skye turned, hands braced on her gun. Two men fired on the decoy, one from an alley and the other from a roof. Skye popped up so she was braced kneeling on one knee, just enough over the table so she could aim and took the one on the alley first as he exposed his position. The bullet caught him in the side of the neck. Skye immediately adjusted her aim and took out the man on the roof just as he was swinging to aim for her. She caught him that one in the head and he collapsed, hanging halfway over the ledge of the roof while his rifle clattered to the ground uselessly.

“C’mon!” Skye grabbed Jemma by the arm and kept low by the tables, rushing for the open section of the patio ‘railing’surrounding the tables. She stopped at the edge of it, checked for movement as she heard the groans, growls and hisses of the zombies looking for them, and then grunted, “Run!” and pushed Jemma ahead of her. She pushed at Jemma’s pack but made sure to keep her on her feet as she rushed them around the side of the building and outback. They stopped against the back wall and Skye looked at their options. It was pretty bleak. They could get onto a roof to have the high ground but there could be more of them on the other roofs. They had to make a run somewhere. Skye heard shuffling behind her and swung around, her arm already raising her gun to eye level from muscle memory reaction. She braced her arm, squeezed the trigger and took out a teen that had come running directly at them.

Jemma gasped. Skye grabbed her elbow.“Move! Let’s go!” She urged. She rushed them across the open alleyways, kept their backs to the walls of the buildings. Jemma stuck close to Skye’s side. At one point she yanked Skye’s knife free and rammed it through the side of a zombie’s skull after it burst from an open doorway between the two of them on their rush to get the hell out of there.

By the time they reached an opening that led into the woods, Jemma wanted to puke.  “Don’t stop!” Skye encouraged in urgent, hushed tones. She pushed and pulled Jemma along, mapped them a course over roots and downed trees, up and around an embankment. Skye kept them moving. She didn’t check the sun or the time. She watched behind them, she diligently checked ahead of them. She tried to make sure they only made as much noise as necessary. It seemed like it was days before Skye stopped them near a large tree. She pointed to her mouth with one finger to tell Jemma to be quiet and then pointed upward to the tree. Silently, Jemma let Skye boost her up into the tree and then took Skye’s pack up with her. Skye scaled the tree and they moved to higher branches so they wouldn’t be seen from the ground or the road. They heaved for breath as silently as possible.

“Are you hurt?” Skye spoke barely loud enough for Jemma to hear it.

Jemma took stock of her hands, her arms and her legs. She hadn’t been touched by anyone (or thing) other than Skye. “Are you?” She asked the other woman.

Skye holstered her gun and shifted so she could free her bow and uncap the quiver case. She shook her head. “I’m good,” she murmured as she depressed the button and brought the bow into working position. She readied an arrow loosely so she could fire it quickly if (or when) needed.

Within moments of adjusting her position, a telltale groan approached the general direction of their tree. Jemma grimaced. Skye sighed and took a number of deep breaths, hoping the zombie would shamble past them but trying to calm her racing heart in case it didn’t. They didn’t know how many of zombies or humans were currently out there and Skye didn’t want to shoot a zombie with an arrow and give away their position. The zombie shambled past, stopping occasionally to randomly turn a half or full circle and then shuffled on again. Skye and Jemma were forced to wait in agonizing silence, straining their ears at any little rustle of leaves, hiss of air, shuffle – anything at all that might be a ghoul or part of the group they had just encountered.

In the end, the pair wound up in the tree for almost three hours before the woman that Skye had shot in the leg earlier had come stumbling through the path Skye and Jemma had taken. She had lost a lot of blood, was sweating profusely and had almost seven zombies on her tail and they were beginning to close in on her. Jemma clenched her eyes shut, shaking as she jammed her fingers into her ears to block the cacophony of groans out. Skye frowned. She waited long enough to know that the woman was by herself and then she began firing arrows on the zombies, starting with the little boy who only had half a face.

“Don’t move,” Skye said when it was only the woman left. “Reach for anything and I won’t hesitate to sink a bolt in your skull.”She warned. Jemma’s eyes were wide. Skye motioned for Jemma to stay put and stay quiet.

“Please!” The woman gasped. “P-Please help me!” She begged.   
  
Jemma shook her head at Skye. Skye pointed to Jemma’s belt and mimed her hand into a gun, using her thumb to signify cocking the hammer back. Jemma frowned.  Skye put the arrow away, pulled the level to disassemble the bow and clipped it to her belt. She left her pack in the tree with Jemma and silently checked her gun to make sure there were bullets still in the magazine and then made sure to prep a round in the chamber. She gave the area a last sweep and shared one last glance with Jemma before she climbed down a few branches and then dropped from the tree. By the time she landed and pushed into a standing position, her arms were outstretched and locked, muscles pulled taut as her elbows locked and her hands braced each other on the gun. Her finger was inside the trigger guard but hadn’t touched the trigger yet. It was just poised there, ready to squeeze.

“P-Please…” the woman begged. Skye stayed back. She wasn’t close enough for the woman to kick at her legs. She certainly wasn’t close enough for the woman to launch at her in hand to hand combat. If the woman lurched the wrong way, Skye would squeeze the trigger and end the threat.

“Have you been bit?” Skye asked. The woman shook her head. Skye narrowed her eyes but that let end of things drop for now. “Why were you attacking living humans?”

The woman’s head snapped. Her eyes went wide as she realized that the person standing with the gun on her was one of the people that her group had attacked. It hadn’t filtered into her wild thought cycle until that moment. “I-I’m sorry, p-please, you don’t understand…” The woman’s pleas continued but something in her eyes didn’t sit right with Skye. The woman moved to her knees like she was going to stand and Skye took two steps backwards, adjusting her aim as she moved. The woman held out one hand in surrender but in the next moment had reached for something in her boot.

“Don’t do it-,” Skye tried to give the woman one last warning but the woman lunged and Skye turned, backing out of her path. She let go of the gun with one hand and as she sidestepped the woman’s next staggering lunge, she swung the butt of the gun down hard on the back of the woman’s head. The woman collapsed, unconscious, to the ground and Skye didn’t have to alert anyone to their position with a gunshot.

Skye stepped back over to the tree. She looked up into it to see Jemma shaking as she held the gun in her hands. “It’s okay, you can put that away,” She said. “Send down the packs and come down. We need to move.” She said.

Jemma almost cried; she was so relieved to see Skye appear at the trunk of the tree. She nodded and carefully released the hammer of the revolver. She flipped the safety the way Skye had shown her how and holstered it. Then she started to drop their packs down to Skye.

“Let’s go,” Skye urged her own after she’d gathered her bearings to send them in the right direction. Jemma followed. Both women kept a careful eye and ear out for anything moving in the areas surrounding them as they went in silence.

 


	12. Wait For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** No major warnings this go round 
> 
> Managed to get a little more written out while at work today, consider it an extra Xmas present, eh? ;) 
> 
> As always, sorry for typos, didn't get to spellcheck. I'm trying to get to replying to your comments too, sorry for slowness in replying! 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading, for all the comments, kudos and love! <3 <3  
> Merry Xmas, happiest of holidays, take it easy, save some pie for me, stay warm and be kind to each other!  
> <3 <3  
> :)
> 
> \--------

“Did you see the symbol on her neck?” Jemma asked.

The two of them had been moving steadily for a couple of hours. Jemma hoped they were in the clear. Skye was still tense, all her senses still on high alert. She occasionally stopped them for quick water breaks and to check her map of the area. They were getting close to the secondary safe house Grant had set up and marked off on her map long before she’d ever wound up separated from him and Trip.

Skye frowned. “It was a cattle brand,” she said.

Jemma grimaced. “Why would someone do such a thing…?”

“It was on the kid in the alley too,” Skye said. “I saw it when we passed him.” _No_ , she thought, _when we passed his dead body after I killed him_.

“They’re marking themselves,” Jemma’s brow furrowed. “For what purpose?”

Skye shrugged. “In my experience, the kinds of people that do that are usually the kinds of people that tend to live by the ‘if you’re not with me, you’re against me,’ code of life,” She reasoned. “We didn’t have the brand. We weren’t with them.”

“That’s mental,” Jemma admonished as she followed Skye through the terrain. “The chance of infection from a wound like that when supplies are so scarce…it’s mental.”

Skye frowned. “A lot of people have lost their minds, Jem,” she said. “Psychotic breaks, dire straits, it messes people up.” Hell, it messed Skye up. She was doing her best not to think about what she’d just done to all of those people, whether they were trying to kill Jemma and her or not. Skye had to focus on the goal; make sure no one was following them and get to the secondary safe house. “I hope neither of us reach a point were something that bonkers seems like a good idea to us.” She looked down at the map piece she had pulled out and then around at the area ahead of them. “It should be just up ahead another half mile,” she told Jemma.

Jemma silently considered Skye’s words, letting them roll over in her mind rather than thinking about going another half mile through the forest terrain.

\--

When they first reached the cabin, they didn’t go inside initially. Skye kept them a good distance back, hidden by the surrounding trees and shrubbery. In the last fifteen minutes before they reached the tree line area before the cabin, Skye had slowed their pace significantly and had carefully navigated them around snares, traps and noisemakers that Jemma would have never noticed if Skye hadn’t pointed them out as they made their way. They watched the cabin for a couple of hours. Skye’s intention was twofold; one, she wanted to see if anyone was using the cabin already and two she wanted to make sure no one was following them and, if they were, she wanted to take care of them before going into the cabin if necessary.

It was midway into the afternoon when Skye deemed it safe to advance and check the cabin. She pulled her knife out as they went and helped Jemma past a couple more hidden alarms. Jemma was careful to follow Skye’s instructions. She pulled the knife from her own belt; precaution seemed to be the watchword and Jemma wanted to be prepared to be helpful if it was absolutely necessary. She had been wildly unprepared for what happened in town and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again. Tension radiated off of Skye. Even from a couple of paces behind her, Jemma could feel it. Skye was anxious. Jemma couldn’t blame her. This was supposed to be the place that she and her brothers were to meet up if, for some reason, they’d gotten separated. Jemma didn’t know the exact circumstances that led to their separation but she knew it had to do with being attacked. In the hours they’d been watching the house, Skye and Jemma hadn’t seen, or heard, another human being.

Skye felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. Her mouth was impossibly dry and her heart was pounding so hard she was sure Jemma must be able to hear it. She stopped at the back door of the cabin, stalling the duo’s progress there. Jemma looked around them. She’d made notes of the various fauna around the yard as they had made their way through. There was a greenhouse but she couldn’t quite tell the condition of anything inside it from where they were at in the yard. A few yards from it was a small square wooden structure with a roofed section next to it that held piles of split wood. The bottom of it was squared off in cinderblock and it had a metal chimney on top of it. She guessed it might be a barbecue or smokehouse. She wanted to ask but knew there would be time later. There were numerous edible plants around the ‘yard’ area of the house, some that Jemma was sure every day lay people wouldn’t recognize as edible. There were some plants that were growing along the edge of the house that Jemma recognized as figs. There were solar panels on the roof that looked like they were getting decently hit in the clearing of trees but there was also a small metal cylinder that spun in the breeze as well. Aside from these possible power sources there was a very large oil tank against one part of the house. It was anyone’s guess if someone had syphoned it off, though. Jemma made mental notes of all of it.

After a long few minutes, Jemma took a breath and whispered, “Skye…?” as she put her hand very lightly against Skye’s back. Skye’s muscles jumped beneath the layers of fabric under Jemma’s palm but she made no movement to turn or move forward. She held her breath actually. “Do you want me to…?” Jemma wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t think they should remain on the small stoop area for too long.

Skye cleared her throat. “No…no, I’ve…” Skye took a deep breath and exhaled it. She fished below her collar for the beaded metal chain Jemma had seen around her neck before. At the end of it there were three metal keys (two silver, one bronze), a small silver pendant in the shape of a brontosaurus, silver daisy pendant and a much smaller beaded chain with a single dog tag attached to it. Jemma assumed the dog tag once belonged to Skye’s brother, Grant. The pendants she would have to ask about some time. Skye pulled the chain off over her head and pulled up one of the silver keys, folding the rest of the chain, keys and pendants in her fist. She pulled the storm door open and Jemma propped it with her hand. Skye knocked loudly on the door. She tried the handle and sure enough it was locked. She held her breath as she slipped the key into the lock and turned it until the knob twisted with it.

Skye pushed the door open and they stepped inside. “Grant?” Skye called out. “Trip?” She waited until Jemma was inside and then pulled the storm door shut and flipped the inside lock. She shut the main door and flipped both the lock on the knob and the deadbolt in a way that told Jemma this was a habit she hadn’t yet lost from before the world went to shit. It wasn’t a bad habit to retain, granted. The two stayed by the door, waiting for a response. The cabin wasn’t very large. The back door left into a shared, very small kitchen and dining room.

Skye led Jemma through the doorway that led from the kitchen/dining room into a living room. To the right hand side against the wall there was a set of stairs that led to a lofted area. It looked like there were at least two rooms up there from what Jemma could see. The living room had the basics – a cozy looking L-shaped couch with a couple of throw blankets folded on the back of it, end tables at each side, a thin, long table along the back of another, the couch faced a fire place, a large TV hung over the fireplace and, on the mantle sat four framed pictures. Jemma’s eyes immediately went to them as Skye called out again for her brothers and headed up the stairs to check in the rooms. Jemma made her way around the couch and to the stone fireplace mantle. Three of the frames were sitting normally on the mantle but one of them lay face down. The pictures had drawn Jemma in automatically, but the fact that one had been moved was peculiar.

Jemma glanced over her shoulder and looked up at the loft area. She saw Skye leave one room and head for the other. Frowning thoughtfully, Jemma turned back to the mantle and picked up the frame. She immediately felt like she had stepped over a line as the smiling faces of a young family stared back at her – a woman who could only have been Skye’s mother, a very young Skye no more than six or seven complete with a gap toothed Cheshire sized smile seated on her lap clutching a green stuffed dinosaur in her hands while two boys in their teens stood behind them and flashed bright smiles that reached their eyes. Skye’s mother was dead. It was possible her brothers were too. She looked at the spot the frame had been lying and saw a piece of paper.

“Skye!” Jemma snatched at the paper and flipped it open without thinking as she called out for the other woman.

She heard the clatter of Skye’s heavy footfalls as she rushed from the loft down to the living room, looking for whatever trouble had made Jemma call out. “What’re you-,” Skye cut off when she saw the picture frame in Jemma’s hands. She glanced at the fireplace mantle and gripped the handle of her knife tighter, resisting the urge to rip the frame from Jemma’s hands. Her eyes welled briefly but she blinked and they were clear a moment later.

“I’m sorry,” Jemma apologized right away. “This photo, it was lying face down and it seemed odd so I came to look and this,” She thrust the paper out under Skye’s nose right away.

Skye took a steadying breath. She shoved her knife into its holster and took the paper into her hands. Fumbling with it, she flipped t open and her eyes began to scan the familiar scribble. Her eyes wells once more as she read.

_Skye, Grant,_

_I guess I beat you both to the cabin. It’s been four days and no sign of either of you. I can’t just keep sitting and waiting for you. I’ll be back on the 15 th if I don’t find you before then so if you arrive and find this, stay put and wait for me, I’ll be back soon._

_Love, Trip_

“H-he was here…” Skye’s voice came out quiet, thick with emotion when she spoke. Jemma noticed the corners of the papers shaking and realized Skye’s hands were trembling a bit.

“This is good,” Jemma tried to give her a reassuring smile as she stepped closer to Skye. “Right?” She reached out and put a hand on the outside of Skye’s arm. “The fifteenth, that’s three days from now,” She added. “That’s not long at all.” She tried her best to sound reassuring.

Skye forced herself to nod. “Yeah,” she said. It was hard to mask her disappointment, to have come so far with all that hope to come up empty. She tried to look at it the way Jemma was talking about it. Trip was alive. Trip was alive and he had made it to the cabin. In three days, Trip would return and Skye would be able to see him with her own eyes, would be able to throw her arms around him and know for sure that he was safe. Well, she would know he was as safe as one could be in the middle of a fucking apocalypse.

“What are the steps Grant would take after he made it here?” Jemma arched her eyebrows. She wanted to snap Skye out of her daze. Her goal was now to keep the other woman distracted and occupied. Surely there were things to take stock of, inventory, make use of.

Skye blinked. She looked over at Jemma, regarding her a moment. It seemed like her eyes welled further but, once again, she blinked and her façade was back in place. She nodded. “Right,” She cleared her throat and looked around the room, grabbed her bearings with a deep breath. “Let me show you around, and then we’ll check the generators, the wells and the greenhouse.” She decided.

Jemma flashed her a bright grin. “Can I spend another minute admiring how adorable you and your dinosaur are first?” she held the frame up to explain her joke and Skye’s eyes briefly welled again as she let out an abrupt laughed. “My goodness, are you _blushing_?” She teased when she saw the pink tint appear in Skye’s cheeks.

Skye quickly brushed a hand over her cheek as she chuckled and took the photo from Jemma’s hands. “Har, har,” she said sarcastically, but she did gaze down at the photo for a long moment before she placed it gingerly back on the mantle in its rightful spot. “C’mon, we’re wasting daylight,” She nodded for Jemma to follow her and started for the loft so they could drop their packs.


	13. Before It Goes Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Enjoy the respite. 
> 
> As always, sorry for typos, didn't get to spellcheck.  
> Thank you as always for reading, for all the comments, kudos and love! <3
> 
> \-------------

Three days was a lot of time to fill. This was especially so when there was no guarantee that Skye’s brother would actually return on time. Jemma chose to believe that Trip would return as stated in his letter. She needed to believe that idea fully in order to continue finding ways to keep Skye occupied. Jemma knew the psychological toll that a person’s brain could take on them, wreaking havoc in the form of anxiety, paranoia and fear when there were no clear tasks to mark off of a mental checklist. Skye had been so patient with her so far since finding her; she never forced Jemma to talk about anything she didn’t want to, she was gentle and calm whenever Jemma had become overwhelmed with emotion and Jemma had already lost count of how many time Skye had saved her life without a second thought to the kind  of peril it would put her in.  This situation presented Jemma with a way to repay Skye at least in some small way.

Their first day at the cabin was the busiest.  After Skye gave her a quick tour, she and Jemma made a circuit of the property so that Skye could point out every single possible security trap or alarm she could find so that she could show them all to Jemma. 

“I figured making sure you saw them would be more useful than telling you where they would be,” Skye had told her. “Photographic memory, right?” 

Jemma wanted to tell Skye it didn’t quite work like that but Skye wasn’t wrong either. After that, Skye had inspected the small wooden shack with the roofed firewood stack connected to it. It turned out to be a smokehouse, which was a great tool for them, according to Skye, since it meant she could hunt something b igger than rabbits, squirrels or birds as she’d be able to preserve them. 

The greenhouse was next. Jemma had been surprised by the solar-rigged automation it contained. It had its own rainwater tanks that fed a sprinkler system that was on a time. The same solar and wind panels that were on the cabin, were positioned on poled at one of the corners of the greenhouse. When they had entered the greenhouse, Jemma had marveled at how lush the vegetables inside were. She was wrapped up in gingerly touching a bright red grape tomato with a longing to eat it so deep that she had to lick her lips to keep from drooling, that she let out a startled squeak when the sprinklers went off for a pre-timed interval. 

Skye had chuckled and stepped over to her. “Should have warned you about that,” she’d said as she reached for the bright red tomato Jemma had been ogling a moment before. Jemma pushed her hair out of her face and wiped some of the sprayed water from her forehead, forcing down the urge to snatch the coveted produce from Skye’s hand. Without a word or question, Skye held the tomato out to Jemma. “I’ll grab a couple of baskets. We’ll need to harvest some of the stuff in here before it spoils,” she said with a smile as she had offered the tomato to her, resisting her own urge to consume it after she’d seen the way Jemma had been staring at it. She watched for a moment as Jemma arched her eyebrows and Skye gave her a nod. Jemma took the fruit and popped it into her mouth. She had closed her eyes and chewed the tomato  slowly; enjoying it with a hum of  pleasure she simply hadn’t been able to stop. 

Skye had smiled at her and hesitated there, suspended by the sight of Jemma’s simple  enjoyment of a tiny tomato and then she’d stepped away to gather a few baskets so  they could work through the aisles of the greenhouse while Skye explained that she’d been the one to set up and program the automation of the greenhouse. Her brother Grant, it seemed, made rotations of the safe houses he set up, so that he could maintain more than one.

 

“’ _Don’t just have a __backup plan, Skye_ ,’ ” Skye had smiled sadly as she scrunched her brow and dropped her voice to imitate her brother.  “ ’ _Plan backups for your backup plans_. ’”  She’d said. Jemma could see the logic, even if before everything happened, she would have considered it very paranoid. It didn’t matter how paranoid the situation had been, that paranoia was currently behind the reason Jemma was still alive, so she couldn’t knock it. 

When they’d finished collecting the ripe produce and further pruning up the plants to give them a little TLC, they’d carried their baskets from the Greenhouse into the cabin through the cabin’s backdoor.  Jemma went about separating the produce into bowls while Skye stepped into the pantry. The pantry was just big enough to step into and there were shelves on the left wall, right wall and the back wall. When she emerged she had an armful of items, which she stacked on the counter next to the oven, which it turned out was powered by electricity and so, worked of f of the wind and solar wiring. Jemma paid close attention as she helped Skye work. She kept a small portion of the produce out and off to the side. They spent the rest of the afternoon working on canning up the rest of it in glass canning jars with air tight seals, boiled to pasteurize them and ensure they would be safe for use without losing any of it to waste. 

After all of the canning work was finished, they stored the jars on an empty shelf in the pantry. Jemma was more than a little beat by then, but Skye kept working at the counter and stove. Skye told her she could go ahead and relax, take a nap or read her book. Jemma was reluctant to leave Skye on her own but the woman did have something she was doing with her hands to keep her busy so she acquiesced and went to the couch in the living room. She fell asleep three sentences into the next chapter of the survival book and, sometime later, Skye woke her up. Jemma’s senses were immediately met with the wafting smell of something delicious and her stomach lurched with a large grumble. 

Skye’s eyes actually gleamed for a brief moment. She grinned at Jemma and picked up the book from Jemma’s lap before placing it, closed, on the table. “C’mon,” she held her hands out to help Jemma up. “Dinner’s ready.” 

“Dinner?” Jemma had been so tired from the harrowing morning, followed by the active  afternoon; she hadn’t considered how long ago their last meal had been. 

Skye nodded. “Dinner,” she lingered, holding onto Jemma’s hands for an extra moment before motioning for Jemma to follow her back to the kitchen. The small, round four chair dining room table that resided in the joined kitchen/dining room now held a small lantern in the middle of it, lit just enough to light the room. Jemma realized when she saw it that she had slept through the sun beginning to set. There were two plates at the table, heaped with large helpings of spaghetti mixed with a sauce of some kind that encompassed garlic, tomatoes, spinach, onions and mushrooms (the veggies from both the garden and from some specific areas under a crawlspace be the edge of the cabin since they needed to dark, moist places to grow proper). Jemma could smell the scent of the cooked fresh herbs Skye had cut in the greenhouse – basil, oregano and parsley. Her stomach lurched an excited growl as Jemma exhaled Skye’s name in surprise.

Skye pulled one of the seats out and patted the back of it. “Come sit,” she smiled. “Dig in,” She turned to head for the counter, where she picked up a pitcher and  filled two large purple cups with what Jemma assumed was water. 

Jemma gladly obeyed the loose order to sit down. She pulled her chair in, placed her hands on the table on either side of the silver fork and knife on either side of the plate and leaned closer. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose to take in the wondered scent of the still steaming plate before her. She felt her eyes well and almost cursed herself for feeling emotional. Even with the unknown status of her brothers’ safety, even with the traumatic morning they’d had, even with the heavy story Jemma had laid on her…Skye was still putting herself out of the way to provide Jemma with a type of creature comfort from the world before it went to shit. “Skye this is…” 

“Don’t speak t o o soon,” Skye let her off the emotional hook. She carried the cups to the table and set one down in front of each of their spots as she claimed the seat next to Jemma. “It might smell good but taste awful,” Skye teased. “I found some drink powder in the pantry. I hope you like cherry Kool-aid,” she chuckled and nodded toward the cups. Jemma glanced at the cup in front of her plate and then over at Skye. Her eyes welled and Skye arched her eyebrows. “What?” She asked. “Are you alright? Do you feel sick?” She reached with the back of her hand toward Jemma’s forehead. 

Jemma ducked back and shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” she frowned thoughtfully. “You’ve seen the things that people are capable doing, just in what happened today alone and…” Jemma paused. She couldn’t, in her mind, assemble  quite  the words of gratitude that she wanted to express  to Skye. Her eyes shifted from the absent gaze on the table to lock with Skye’s gaze. “I’m not sure I deserve your genuine kindness and generosity,” she finally said, “But I am so very grateful for… everything you’ve done for me.” 

Skye opened her mouth, preparing to protest either that it was nothing, or something similar but she never got the chance because Jemma leaned over and gathered Skye into a very tight, warm hug. At first, Skye’s muscles tensed. A moment later they relaxed and her arms wound their way around Jemma’s middle and squeezed her back. Skye was in no position to turn down the connection that came with the intimate gesture of a hug. She needed it. She had, perhaps, craved it more than she had originally thought because the moment it seemed like Jemma might relent in the hug, Skye squeezed her tighter, not prepared to let go. So Jemma gave her grip around Skye’s shoulders a squeeze; a silent assurance that she would hold on as long as Skye wanted or needed her to. 

It was Jemma’s stomach growling again that broke them apart with laughter. Each of them discreetly wiped at their cheeks before pulling their chairs in and picking their forks up. “Thank you, Skye,” Jemma offered this comment aloud. 

Skye glanced over at her. “Thank you,” she said in return. Jemma didn’t have to ask her for reasoning. She understood the value of not being alone in the fight to survive. “Let’s dig in before it goes cold,” Skye smiled.

 The meal passed in relative silence, each of them trying their best to eat at a normal pace rather than shoveling the food down as quickly as it would go. When it was done, they shared the short duty of doing the dishes , Jemma washing them in a shallow pool of soapy water and Skye drying them and storing them in their rightful cabinets and drawers.  Without a word to suggest that they both should get some sleep, Skye grabbed the lantern and the made a round of the small lower floor, ensuring the windows and doors were locked and the curtains properly drawn. They headed for the stairs and Jemma walked up to the lofted area and into the darkened room which they had left their backpacks in. Skye stopped at the bottom stairs and rigged a string strewn alarm and makeshift gate for the bottom of the stairs that attached from the wall to the banister. It was easy to see, even in the dark but that wasn’t the point. The point to it was that if any number of the undead were to get into the house without tripping the outside rigged alarms/traps or without waking Jemma or Skye, they would run into the rigging at the bottom of the stairs and it would make a lot of noise and would block them for a time until Skye and Jemma could assess the situation.

Satisfied with the failsafe, Skye grabbed the lantern and went to t he bedroom. The two of them prepared for bed, changing out of some of their clothing layers and using the bathroom facilities – Jemma had almost cried again at being able to wash her face and brush her teeth proper with the running water, though she made sure not to waste a single drop of the liquid. Skye had told her about the well water system earlier in the day and the carefully maintained septic system for the toilet as well, but Jemma had been unprepared for the refreshing feeling that washing her face and brushing her teeth would bring to her that evening. 

Jemma wasn’t entirely sure how Skye wanted to handle the sleep situation now that they were in a room that had two double sized beds in it. The room wasn’t large it was enough to hold the two beds in in their frames with a narrow foot-wide nightstand between the two headboards that had a single drawer and a small lamp on it. There was barely space between the two beds. There was enough room to walk around either side of the bed and for a bureau against one wall and a desk in the corner against another. There was a shallow closet to the left of the beds and there was a single window on the wall to the right of the beds. Skye had already pulled the curtains on that window earlier in the dark.  Skye grabbed the wooden chair at the desk and used it to prop under the handle of the bedroom door; one last security measure to set her mind a little bit more at ease again intruders – living or undead alike. 

Both seemed a bit reluctant to but in the end they agreed they should each take a bed of their own. Jemma wanted to protest but was afraid that she might accidentally guilt Skye into giving up her personal space so she climbed into the bed on the right after Skye moved for the one on the left. Shortly after her head hit the pillow, Jemma’s body took over and she fell asleep. She wasn’t sure how long she was asleep but it was the soft sounds of stifled crying that woke her. She shifted quietly, rolling over in the dark as she tried to wait  as patiently as possible for her eyes to adjust, straining her ears to  make sure she wasn’t imagining the sniffles or the soft, muffled huffs of emotion coming from the other bed.

Skye lay curled up on her side, facing away from Jemma. She hugged a pillow to her face to stifle the sounds as much as possible. She sniffled only when she absolutely had to. She tried her absolute best to keep from waking Jemma. Skye could put on a brave face. She could push the awfulness of this life to the far reaches of her mind so she could get the job done – whatever the job may be. But in the stillness of the night surrounding them, she couldn’t fight away the imagine of the little boy with half a face that had been a shambling zombie, the knowledge of the people she had shot, of the ones she had killed, of all that she had done in the name of survival. She couldn’t turn though haunting thoughts and movie reel memories off. She couldn’t avoid her fear now either, the fear that told her that her brothers were dead and she would never see them again. 

Jemma was awake, despite Skye’s efforts to suffer in solitude with her emotions. As her eyes finished adjusting to the dark, she saw the bob of Skye’s shoulders as she shook in the dark. Without giving it a second thought, Jemma quietly slipped from her bed, lifted the covers behind Skye and slipped into the bed behind the other woman. Skye’s muscles instantly tensed. “Shhh,” Jemma hushed her gently. “It’s just me,” She said and Skye’s muscles slowly relaxed. Jemma wedged her arms around Skye and pulled her back tightly against her chest, encircling  her into a firm cocoon of what Jemma hoped was comfort. Jemma’s hand sought out one of Skye’s and worked until she could entwine their hands together tightly. “Whatever it is,” She murmured against Skye’s ear. “I’ve got you,” she promised. Once again, she felt like this was the absolute least that she could do in light of all that Skye had done for her. In the short time they had known each other Jemma felt a strong connective gravitational pull toward Skye. There was a connection, one she couldn’t quite verbalize but one that made her feel protective, that made a dull ache appear in her chest at the very sight and sound of Skye falling apart while trying to hide it to work through it on her own. 

Skye sniffled. She gripped Jemma’s hand tightly and leaned back into the embrace, unable to pull herself together enough to insist she was alright. She wasn’t alright. She had done terrible things and they were the kind of things that a person couldn’t come back from. At dinner, Jemma was praising her generosity but before that, this morning after breakfast, she had killed people; plural, not singular…she had killed  people , living, breathing people. Those people were trying to kill her and Jemma, granted, but even so. “I’m s-sorry,” Skye stammered, stubbornly trying to calm down now that Jemma had found out about her outburst. 

Jemma squeezed her hand and pulled Skye closer. She gently rocked them just enough that the motion was noticeable to both of them. “There’s no reason,” Jemma assured her. Before she could stop herself or think better of it, Skye let go of Jemma’s hand and the pillow she had been stifling her cries with. She shifted and rolled without ever leaving the safety of Jemma’s arms and in the next moment her face was thrust into the crook of Jemma’s neck against her collar and Skye’s arms wound around her and clung tightly to Jemma’s back, as if doing so would somehow anchor her to this present moment and not whatever she was seeing behind her eyelids when she closed them.

Jemma, for her part, held tightly to Skye. She stroked Skye’s hair  and her back. Without thinking about it either, Jemma turned her head at one point at dropped a kiss against the side of Skye’s as she gently rubbed along the length of her back. Skye began to murmur about the things she’d done and Jemma patiently listened to the emotional confessions before attempting to absolve Skye from them through rationalizations – Skye had only killed people who were threatening and/or outright  trying to kill the two of them. When the confessions, absolutions and tears were exhausted, Skye pled with Jemma to stay with her for the night. Jemma wasn’t going to deny Skye  the comfort and reassurance she was so obviously in need of right then . She promised to stay right where she was and that was how they  remained , wrapped around each other, whispering comforting murmurs into each other’s ears  until they fell asleep; Skye fell asleep first and Jemma waited until she was sure Skye was all the  w ay asleep before she let herself doze off. 

\--

The second day was a bit more relaxed but still somewhat busy. They didn’t discuss what happened the night before but there was an unspoken promise from that night going forward that neither of them would aloe the other to sleep and suffer alone going forward. First, they checked on the greenhouse. Then they checked to make sure everything with the water and electricity were wired properly and not fraying. When that was finished, they took a reel spool of fishing line that had been in one of the closets and Jemma followed Skye into the surrounding woods, setting snares to see what they might be able to catch for food.  They scouted the surrounding area a bit so that they could familiarize themselves with it and to make sure none of the branded people had managed to track them. 

In the afternoon, once they were back at the cabin, Skye set up some targets and spent a few hours teaching Jemma her way around the collapsible bow.  At first, she was absolutely terrible with it. By the time they finished she was at least hitting the target, though she certainly didn’t have any bullseyes. Once the sun moved so it was beginning its descent, they went back into the woods to check on the snares.  Out of fifteen snares, they had snagged four animals so far ;  a snowshoe hare, a roughed grouse, a woodchuck and, best of all, a turkey! It turned ou t to be a thirteen pound turkey, which made the sack of animals heavier to heft than Skye was expecting but  it left them both with lifted spirits and kept them chatting about how they should prepare it for their dinner meal that night. 

Skye was surprised when Jemma stuck around outside to help her butcher up the animals until Jemma reminded her that she was a scientist. Skye pointed out her penchant for puking around zombies and got a joking elbow to the ribs for it and a lecture about how zombies are a biologically different ballgame. Skye listened to the whole lecture with a stupid little smirk on her face while they took care of  cleaning the usable meat from the animals. Jemma brought half of the turkey inside to start cooking their dinner and Skye set up the smokehouse so that she could get the rest of the meat going in there in order to cook it for preserving. She would check on it multiple times throughout the night, much to Jemma’s anxiety. 

After they ate, Skye tested out the water to see how the solar/wind generators were holding up under the stress of being used here and there. It produced only cold water, sadly enough so Skye opted for boiling enough water to fill a basin. She let Jemma use the first one to clean up and then filled one for herself. It wasn’t the same as a shower, but it was better than sleeping in the loft of a barn or the storage area of a bookstore. Cleaned up and smelling a bit better, they settled for a couple of hours on the L-shaped couch in the living room. It was just as cushy as it looked like it would be, Jemma found.

At first Jemma read her book by the lantern light while Skye took inventory notes in her journal. Eventually, they started talking, which led to shifting closer on the couch. Before long, Jemma wound up lying on the couch with her head on  one of Skye’s thighs , yawning sleepily while Skye combed her fi ngers absently through Jemma’s hair. Neither one of them commented on the intimacy of the position as they were too busy questioning each other, on their pasts, on things in the survival book Jemma was on her second read-through of. It had been easy to fall into the closeness between them in the moment. Admittedly, Skye could feel the tightness in her belly at Jemma’s proximity, but she was doing her best to ignore it lest she ruin the moment. In the same vein, Jemma couldn’t deny the warmth that seemed to trickle through her with each gentle stroke of Skye’s fingers through her hair. 

“ What did your mum do?” Jemma’s eyes were focused on the picture frames on the mantel – the cozy little family through the years. 

“She was a social worker,” Skye answered, her voice a bit distant as her eyes found Jemma’s line of sight. 

Jemma’s hand moved to rest just above Skye’s knee, giving her leg a gentle squeeze; an apology for intruding on her memories. “I don’t think I find that at all surprising.” 

“No?” 

“No,” Jemma shook her head. “You’re remarkably compassionate – you knew that woman was going to try to attack you, once she realized who you were, and you still gave her a chance to decide against it.” She said. Not to mention, Skye also hadn’t outright killed the woman. Shot her and then later knocked her out? Sure, okay but the situation had extenuating circumstances. “You learned that from someone.” 

Skye considered that a moment as her fingers passed through Jemma’s hair  absently . “Yeah,” She murmured through a sad smile . “I guess so.” 

“ Is that how she found your brothers?” 

Skye nodded and looked down to find Jemma had shifted her head slightly to get a look at Skye. “She was a foster mom,” she said. “Grant was  six when he was sent  to live with her. His parents were  both addicts and abusive – his dad went on a rampage one night with a knife. Grant was the only one who survived.” She frowned as she wondered what it must have been like for her older brother to have to leave the hospital and go live with a stranger. “

Jemma’s hand squeezed Sky’s leg tighter. She swallowed the urge to murmur about how sorry she was to hear this. Instead she quietly asked, “And Trip? Is that his real name?”

Skye chuckled now but Jemma could hear the anxiety in the small laugh. “His last name was Triplett. He  was four when they placed him with my mom, which was three years after Grant came to live with her. His mom had died in childbirth and his grandma was raising him. She died and there was no one else, so,” she shrugged and combed her fingers through Jemma’s hair. 

“And you?” Jemma asked though she knew from looking at those pictures alone that there was no way Skye was adopted. 

Jemma rolled toward the back of the couch slightly and look up at Skye. There was a small crooked smirk on Skye’s lips. She leaned slightly closer down toward Jemma. “I was an accident,” she said without any hint of remorse or shame. Skye had been loved – truly and unconditionally – it didn’t matter how she came into the world because of this fact. “Showed up about two years after Trip. Dad split before I was born,” she shrugged her shoulders but Jemma could see the momentary flash of sadness that flitted across Skye’s vision before it disappeared. Skye turned her gaze down to Jemma. “What about you?” She asked 

“Me?” Jemma arched her eyebrows. 

“ What do  your parents do?” Skye asked. “Do you have any siblings?” Skye hoped any of her family members were all in England, still. The plague had started in the Americas and countries were very quick to turn flights away. Any flights that did land were subject to quarantine – which  had been both  the right thing to do and morally reprehensible at the same time. Some passengers had been trapped on runways, surrounded by military force while the undead multiplied around them with no real weapons to fight them off and, even if they did; the authorities wouldn’t let them disembark the plane out of fear. Skye was very deliberate in framing the questions in the present tense. 

Jemma was silent for a long moment, her gaze a bit blank as she stared ahead without actually seeing anything. “Dad’s a maths teacher. Mum’s a nurse,” She answered. “I have one sister. She’s  four years older than me…” the ‘ Or, at least she was, ’ went unspoken. 

“Oh man,” Skye let out a dreamy sigh. “A  sister ? What was that like?” Skye had only had her brothers. While they had been extremely protective of her when other people messed with her for whatever reason, she was not immune, as a young girl, to throwing herself into the melee of roughhousing. She imagined having a sister was a whole different world. She was trying to make light of the conversation to keep them both from teetering over the emotional edge. Even so, she saw Jemma’s eyes momentarily well before she blinked the tears away. 

“We’re polar opposites,” Jemma said when she spoke, trying her best to stifle the crack in her voice. Skye’s fingers went from Jemma’s hair to her shoulder and squeezed it. She was about to tell Jemma that she didn’t have to talk about it, but Jemma went on. “We fought dirty with each other…all the time. We knew every weakness the other had and would exploit it whenever a fight broke out, no holds barred.” Jemma paused and Skye couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to gentle touch the thoughtful crease in Jemma’s brow. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them talked about how they wound up in this position on the couch together. Just like their sleeping arrangements; it didn’t matter how, it just mattered that it was.

Jemma cleared her throat slightly. “By the time she was sixteen, I had skipped multiple grade years in school and was in accelerated classes. I was twelve at the time,” she closed her eyes a moment and grimaced. “As much as we fought at home, or purposefully did things to get on each other’s  nerves … Holly never let  anyone hurt me. If anyone picked on me, bullied me about, did anything to take advantage of me - anything she thought was uncouth in some way - they had Holly to answer to.” She smiled sadly as she fixed her gaze ahead. 

Skye listened. She felt the pull in her heart as it went out to Jemma in sympathy for the unknown status of her family. She squeezed Jemma’s shoulder gently.  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” She said. She thought about reminding Jemma that he r country of origin was one of the first t o cut off all air and seaports, all international travel. They’d been ruthless in ‘quarantining’ any arrivals that made it through either just before the closures  in order to ensure that it didn’t spread within their borders. Skye had no idea how long they’d been successful since access to the varying communications grids didn’t hold up long enough to watch it unfold. 

Jemma shook her head and moved to sit up. She quickly wiped at her cheeks as Skye reached out and combed her fingers over Jemma’s hair one last time, sad for the loss of warmth that came with the disconnection of their closeness. “I think…I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” She tried to excuse the emotion away. Skye wanted to tell her that it was alright to be upset about this kind of stuff, but Jemma was already speaking again. “I’m going to go and get settled in for bed, I think,” she said moved to rise from the couch and Skye was quick to follow. 

Skye nodded. “I’ll go check on the meat again and then I’ll make my way up,” she said, hoping to give Jemma a little bit of time to recover. Jemma nodded. Wordlessly, she quickly pulled Skye to her in a firm hug and told her to be careful before she pulled away, grabbed her book and was off. Skye watched  her as  she took the stairs to the lofted rooms and disappeared into their shared room. 

After she checked on the smokehouse, made sure the meat was set and there was enough wood at the bottom to keep the slow burn going overnight, Skye made her way back into the cabin. She locked up the door and double checked the windows. She set up the alert wires at the bottom of the stairs and then climbed them and went into the bedroom. She shut the door, locked it and then brace d the chair under the knob.  When she turned around, Jemma was already under the covers in the bed they’d silently promised to share from here on out.  In the darkness of the room, Skye couldn’t tell whether or not the other woman was still awake or not. 

Skye walked to ‘her side,’ of the bed and sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to  Jemma, and began to peel her boots off. She took a few of her top la yers off. She made sure her gun and knife were on the night table next to the bed on her si de just to reassure herself that they were there.  She stood up, pulled the covers on her side back as her eyes finished adjusting to the dark and climbed into bed facing Jemma’s side. Skye knew Jemma was still awake even though her eyes were closed because her breathing wasn’t quite at the slow, even pace she had come to associate with Jemma’s sleep rhythm already.

Skye didn’t try to make her speak, though. She tucked some of Jemma’s hair behind her ear and out of her face and then shifted closer and wrapped her arm around Jemma’s middle beneath the covers. Her hand came to rest along the start of the curve for the small of Jemma’s back. Jemma curled into her, shuffling closer and relaxing into the warm embrace. There was no need to broach the silence surrounding them right then. Skye let the curled embrace they wound into do the talking, apologizing for causing the emotional moment but thanking her for sharing the information despite it. She knew Jemma accepted the unspoken apology when Jemma’s arm wound its way around her in return and settled her head on the pillow and against Skye’s shoulder; a silent goodnight from each of them. 

 


	14. Every Last One of Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait to give you time before I posted this chapter but...I'm too impatient for my own good.....>>
> 
> **Warnings:** Hold onto your butts, there are a lot of them: Action, anxiety, extreme detail of graphic violence, gore and death. Faint of heart beware: terrible things lay ahead. Sobs, ahoy! (my head's in a dark place right now...Panyan, I'm sorry you're going to have to go through this) 
> 
> As always, sorry for typos, if you point any out, I'll fix em!  
> Thank you as always for reading, for all the comments, kudos and love! (I won't blame you if you yell at me after this one)<3
> 
> \--------------

The third day was much tenser than the two before it. Skye was distracted and on edge. She checked her wristwatch often. Jemma tried to k eep her busy with a To Do List and Skye let the other woman prod her along. All the same, she continued to check the time, or to watch the sun’s movements across the sky as the day progressed. She stared off into different sections of the surrounding woods, wondering which direction Trip would emerge from on his return. 

They checked and reset the snares in the morning. It was a smaller haul but any catch would add to their stores. While Skye prepared them to go into the small smokehouse, Jemma took the finished meat inside and broke it down into portions. She used some of the stored electricity to run a vacuum sealer from the pantry closet to further store the now preserved meat. Jemma went into the greenhouse after that while Skye checked over the various traps and alarms surrounding the property to make sure they were all in working order. 

Jemma cooked them dinner that night but by then, Skye was unable to concentrate on anything. She barely picked at her food. She checked her watch repeatedly between turning her head to look at the back door of the cabin, the windows,  and the front door of the cabin. 

“Hey,” Jemma spoke softly in a tone she hoped was soothing. She reached over and curled her hand over Skye’s. Skye tensed and blinked her eyes. She shifted her anxious gaze over to Jemma but said nothing. “Any number of things could have slowed him down,” She  gave Skye’s hand a squeeze. “And I don’t think he’d appreciate me letting you slide on eating dinner in his absence,” she offered a very small, reassuring smile. 

Skye frowned down at her plate. She didn’t feel hungry at all. She felt worried. Did Trip mean he would be back in the morning or at night? Was he overdue or not quite due yet? Had anything happened to him that would keep him from making it back to the cabin on his own? Had he found Grant on his search for supplies? Why had he decided that there weren’t enough supplies in the cabin? Jemma and Skye had made out pretty well with the windfall. Was that just a feeble excuse because Trip felt like he had to look for Skye and Grant rather than waiting for them? Was it a mistake that she decided to wait for him rather than immediately going out to look for her brother? 

Jemma squeezed her hand again and Skye pressed her lips into a thin tight line. Jemma was right. She couldn’t just skip meals because of her anxiety. So Skye slowly made her way through the food on the plate and Jemma generously matched her pace so that they ate their meal together. 

\--

By nightfall after portioning up and vacuum sealing the preserved haul from the day’s end in the smokehouse , Jemma found Skye in their bedroom, hurriedly packing up her backpack with supplies. 

“Skye-,” 

“He said he would be back,” Skye didn’t let Jemma even attempt to talk her out of anything. “Trip doesn’t miss deadlines. He never has. He said he would be here today and he’s not. That means something’s wrong and I can’t just sit here and hope I’m wrong.” 

Jemma frowned. “I’m not asking you to do that-,” 

“No?” Skye snapped as she looked at Jemma over the backpack she was kneeling in front of and shoving items into specific sections to balance it properly. 

“No,” Jemma frowned at Skye. She moved to kneel on the other side of the backpack and set her hands on Skye’s wrists. Skye tried to jerk them away but Jemma clamped her hands down around them by the heels of her hands. “But going out to search for him now is suicide. You know that. You know he wouldn’t want that.” She waited for Skye to look at her, feeling awful at the way Skye’s eyes welled up with tears. “We’ll leave in the morning,” She told Skye. “First light,” she promised. 

Skye broke her hands free from Jemma’s grasp and leaned over the backpack to hug her. She murmured an apology and Jemma reassured her as she  stroked her back. The two of them spent the rest of the night packing up their gear in their packs and double checking that they had everything they would need for the search.  When they climbed into bed together that night, Jemma kept her arms wrapped firmly around Skye, with the other woman pulled back against her chest, making sure she would know if Skye tried to slip out without her. Both women had terribly restless bouts of sleep that night, anxious for the following day’s search. 

-

On the fourth day, with Trip overdue for his return, Skye and Jemma ate breakfast together in silence. Skye wrote out a note and left it on the mantle with the family photo frame laid down on top o f it the same way Trip left his note for them to find.  Skye made sure to leave coded coordinates, just as Trip had, on the back of the slip of paper so that Grant or Trip, whichever of them that might happen upon it, would know which direction she and Jemma had gone in on their search. After one last sweep of the cabin, Skye and Jemma stepped out and Skye locked up the backdoor. 

The pair left not long after sunup, heading off toward the northwest, the direction Trip stated  he’ d gone. Moving through the woods was slower going than if they’d been on a  main road. However, when they came upon one of the small rural highways about three miles out from the cabin, Skye  didn’t like the idea of following openly on the road. Off to the side of the road they would be better hidden by the foliage, they wouldn’t be out in the open for anyone to pick off if they were hiding in wait. Jemma deferred to Skye’s judgment and they crossed the two lane road and continued on their way at a slow upward slope.

The woman walked at a steady pace. They stopped a few times for water breaks and Jemma forced some leftover beef jerky and some figs from one of the many fig trees strategically planted in the area surrounding the cabin into Skye along with their hydration pause. Skye took the time during some of their stops to turn on her charge up gps device so mark their location on her map. She had some idea of the route Trip would take to find them. It fell along the direction they would go to Grant’s third contingency plan location. 

By the time they came across a cabin, the sun was high in the sky and  the women had been trekking for almost five hours. If she had to estimate, Skye would have said they had made it close to ten miles. She knew the pace was grueling for Jemma but Jemma never complained or tried to slow their pace. Instead, Jemma watched their surroundings, kept track as best she could of everything around her, periodically found ways to check on Skye while trying to make it look like she wasn’t trying to check up on her and chugged along. Skye wanted to thank her but the cabin they came across was active. 

From carefully selected very thick cover, Skye and Jemma watched and counted. There were seven adults and three teenagers who looked like they could be closer to adult-age than they were to being pre-teens. Skye put her small binoculars to her eyes. She strained her ears to try and hear what they were discussing. From the gesticulation it looked like their ‘leader’ (a tall, muscular man with tattoos scattered all about his arms and what she could see of his hands and parts of his neck) was doling out responsibilities. He split them into three groups of three and added himself to one of the groups. They were going in two hunting packs and one foraging pack. Each team was to go in a different direction. When the orders were finished, they gathered their weapons and packs and began to split. That was when Skye’s breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of the branding on the sides of the group members’ necks. 

Skye forced Jemma on a quick retreat, careful to remain silent and out of sight, they climbed into a tree to hide while the packs made their ways to the southeast, the west and the north west with one last call from the leader that they were to return by sundown with their bounties. There were comments about signaling with flares if they found any of their missing comrades. Skye and Jemma knew those signals would only go up if those in the group made it far enough to find the bodies. Without cars and knowing the route, Skye was confident they wouldn’t make it far enough to find them. She wondered if they knew about the safe house cabin.

When the groups had departed, Skye and Jemma returned to their observation spot and watched the cabin, looking for any other signs of life. They watched for an hour and then Skye removed her pack and left it with Jemma. 

“What’re you doing?” Jemma whispered. 

“I’m going to check it out,” Skye replied. “Stay here until I come back for you-,” 

“What if there are more-,” 

“I’ll do what I have to do,” Skye answered. Jemma could see the anxiety in her eyes at the idea that she might need to do something like she had in the small main strip of town to the other branded groups. “Be prepared in case anyone’s still here. Watch your back. I’ll be as quick as possible.” She promised. 

Jemma wanted to protest but there was no time. Skye crouched as she went off to the side, wanting to distance herself from Jemma before she would walk into the clearing. Jemma soon lost sight of Skye in the thick foliage and frowned. Soon enough she heard some toned whistling, just a few long notes. Jemma knew it was Skye. She was testing the waters. The idea that she might also alert some zombies, if there were any in the area, to their presence crossed Jemma’s mind. Her eyes scanned the cabin, having pulled her gun from its holster and held it firmly in both hands the way Skye had shown her to. She wasn’t sure where to aim it just yet but she flicked the safety off with her thumb. She wanted to be ready for anything. 

Soon enough, Skye appeared in the clearing. She rushed through  the clearing at a sprint and made it to the side of the cabin, bracing her back against it and surveying the area for any sound or movement. None came. She glanced directly at the area she knew Jemma was still hiding for just a moment,  and then she crouched down and felt around on the ground. Jemma frowned. When Skye’s hand found a rock, she ducked around to the front end of the cabin and moments later Jemma heard the shattering sound of glass. Skye came back into view, hiding against the side of the cabin again, her hands resting equally on the hilt of her knife and the handle of her gun on either thigh. Jemma held her breath. It looked like Skye might be holding hers as well. 

No one appeared and there were no sounds of alarm from inside the cabin or nearby. After a few more long moments, Skye rushed back across the clearing to the areas of cover she had originally emerged from. She made her way back over to Jemma, who initially aimed her gun at her for a second before realizing it was indeed Skye approaching. Jemma put  her gun away as Skye hoisted her backpack to her shoulders.  Both drew their knives and quickly left their cover in the woods to head for the cabin. They went around the front of the cabin and made their way in after reaching through the broken window to unlock the door.

Jemma was startled by the appearance of the interior. It was nothing like the clean, organized, efficient setup of the safe house cabin.  She wondered why they’d bothered to lock up the cabin in the first place.  It was a mess. There was garbage and  gear all over the place. There were empty cans and packages from food that the group must’ve blown through long enough ago that Jemma could smell the mold and bacterial growth on the remnants. Her nose scrunched up as she and Skye carefully made their way from the front living and sitting room, through the dining room and into the hall that led to the kitchen. 

The kitchen was worse than the front room. In comparison, the kitchen was downright ghastly. It seemed as if they had no concept of disinfecting surfaces after butchering animals.  The smell was intense and made both Skye and Jemma’s stomachs turn. Flies had been attracted to the mess and there were chunks of dried either meat or organ along the floor of below the counter that held the writhing larva of maggots. Jemma’s hand covered her mouth and she stifled a gag as she backed out of the kitchen. 

Skye grimaced. “They’ve gone feral…” she murmured. Wit h some reluctance, Skye stepped further into the kitchen, heading for the pantry door on the far wall. She lifted her hand from her gun and braced the back of it in front of her nose and mouth, gripped her knife handle tighter. 

Jemma backed into the hall outside the living room. She looked out the back door as she took another reflexive step back and stumbled over something. She looked down, assuming she had tripped over the edge of the runner rug on the floor. Her brow furrowed as she spotted something causing the long carpet to stick up around it. 

“What a waste,” Skye sighed as she saw the disarray of the pantry closet. She sighed and closed the door, turning back toward the kitchen  door; she spotted Jemma crouching down to the floor. “What’re you-,” 

Both women froze at the sound of a groan. Skye rushed to the doorway, looked all around. Were there ghouls loose in the house?? Could these people be that suicidal?? Jemma hesitated. She leaned closer to the floor and realized there were slight grunts and softer groans coming up from the floor. With a slightly shaking hand, she pushed the rug and flipped t back on itself. Below the rug runner in the hall was a square cut out in the floor, the kind with an oval metal handle that normally folded flush to the floor and typically would open up to a set of stairs that would lead into a cellar. This handle was latched, however, with a rusty padlock.  Skye frowned. She put her knife back in its sheath on her thigh and knelt next to Jemma, slipped her backpack off her shoulders. She began rummaging around  through a couple of open-end wrenches with thick forked ends.

“Skye…maybe we should-,” Jemma stopped trying to protest as Skye hooked a wrench around each of the bars of the padlock, she gripped the wrench handles together with both hands and pulled to twist them, grunting until the movement snapped the padlock into busted pieces. Jemma blinked and looked over at Skye in surprise. How many other skills did Skye know about ways around things like padlocks? She only had a moment to wonder about this before Skye had pulled the last bits of the lock from the hand and flipped the latch. She pulled the wooden access door open and propped it that way. 

Skye grabbed for her small, but heavy duty, LED flashlight from her cargo pocket. She flicked it on and pulled her knife back out of its holder on her thigh. She was already moving for the crooked wooden stairs leading into the cellar when Jemma put her hand on Skye’s arm. Skye looked at her. 

“What if they’re keeping zombies down there?” Jemma asked. 

“I promise you if I see even one of them, I’ll be out of there faster than you can say my name,” Skye said before she aimed the flashlight, raised her knife and started down the stairs. When nothing lunged for the light or the sounds of their voices, she felt confident that there weren’t zombies down here. Jemma rummaged for her own flashlight and aimed it into the hole for Skye as well, doing her best not to shake. She glanced around the cabin every so often, her stomach churning. Jemma wanted to leave this place immediately. Her gut was sending her all kinds of alarm signals that this was a bad idea. 

Skye made it to the cementer flooring of the cellar. It was covered in a thin layer of dirt. There was also dried blood and it was everywhere. She raised her flashlight and glanced to the left and right.  There were chains along the  walls; one of them had a disembodied arm still hanging in it. Nothing seemed to be moving. Skye frowned. She made a circuit of the room with the light from behind the stairs until she circled around in to the wall in front of the stairs. There was one chained up body hanging from more chains to the right of the stairs. It was only torso and its head was bashed in. Shen she turned so her back was to the stairs, she heard a gurgle sound just as her light hit the dark skinned figure of someone chained up to the wall. Her heart jumped into her throat in a gasp. 

“Skye?” Jemma called into the hole. “What is it?” 

The figure was seated on the ground. Chains were wrapped around the middle of his torso, holding him to the wall. Both of his arms were cutoff just below the curve of his shoulders. His right leg was missing from the top of his thigh down. His left foot was missing. At the end of each stub was a blistered, charred patch of flesh where the wounds had been cauterized. Saliva and possibly blood dripped from his mouth.

The light from Skye’s flashlight made him look up but Skye knew immediately it was him before she saw his face.  No! Her brain screamed the word but it was a sob that left her throat as she rushed forward. Jemma called her name as her visual on Skye disappeared. 

Skye dropped the flashlight as she landed on her knees in front of her brother. Even in the dark she could see how pallid his skin was. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” The words rushed from her lips as she dropped the knife. The tears had been nearly instantaneous. “Trip! Hey, hey, look! – hey, Trip, look at me, look, it’s me, it’s Skye,” her hands grabbed first at the chains and then were on the sides of his face. “It’s okay, you’re okay, hey, I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Skye wasn’t in control of the words coming out of her mouth. 

Trip was emphatically not ‘okay’, in any sense of any definition of the word. He was chained up to a wall, barely conscious, limbs had been hacked off of him and his skin burned with fever. His eyes moved in and out of focus as his head wobbled, teetering on the edge of consciousness. He tried to say her name but instead coughed up something spongey and bloody that hit the chains and slipped into his lap. 

“Jemma!” Skye called, but Jemma had already rushed down the stairs when she heard Skye’s sob. She was standing a few feet between the stairs and the two figured before her, her flashlight aimed at them and staring in horror. The light gave Skye a better look at Trip’s face, and also his wounds. She blinked to clear her vision as her tears clouded them. 

“S-Skye…” Trip barely managed the word. His voice was a grisly sounded rasp. 

“Shhh, don’t talk, don’t talk,” Skye murmured. She  leaned up and pulled him to her, cradling the back of his head as she pressed it into the crook of her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here, I’m here – w-we’re going to get you out of here. You’re gonna be okay, Trip. I’ve got you,” she rocked slightly as she gripped at the back of his neck and between his shoulders, clung to the back of his head , kissed the side of his head absently. Trip gurgled and coughed again. Skye clenched her eyes shut and tried to choke down another sob. She couldn’t make her brain process everything about this situation. It seemed to be focusing on the fact that Trip was alive and that she had to get him out of here. 

“I’ll get you out, we’ll get you out,” Skye promised. She sniffled and pulled back reluctantly. Her hands ran over the chains, searching the three or four lengths of them around his torso. Trip grunted as it jostled the inflamed skin beneath the rusty metal chains. Skye’s hands found the lock and she looked at it in the light from Jemma’s flashlight. It was another padlock. “Jemma!” She turned and looked over her shoulder. Jemma stared, her eyes still wide in horror at what she saw before her. “Jemma, get my wrenches, they’re next to my pack, please, hurry!” She turned back to Trip and ducked her head, putting her hands on either side of his face.

“Hey, hey, hey, Trip, c’mon, hey, look at me,” Skye’s voice shook with the sobs she swallowed. “That’s it, look at me – hey, you have to stay with me okay? I found you,” She sniffled. “I found you, you’re gonna be okay, I won’t lose you,” Skye insisted. Jemma heard the words even as she went for the wrenches quickly. There was no way they were getting Trip out of here and even if they did, there was no way he would survive the trip back to the safe cabin – there was no way they’d be able to  carry him back to the cabin. Skye was in some major throes of denial. 

“You’re a-alive…” Trip’s words were so slurred and dragged out so slowly that it took Skye a moment to process them. 

Skye sniffled. “Yeah,” she nodded. “So are you,” she kissed his forehead and only let go of him when Jemma returned and handed her the wrenches. “You’re gonna stay that way. You just hang on, I’m gonna get you out of here, I promise.” She kept murmuring as she moved to the lock and prepared to bust it like she had the one in the hallway. 

“S-Stop,” Trip gasped out. 

Jemma stepped closer and took visual stock of the massively traumatic injuries.  She could see the infection streaks in what was left of his legs. She could see the fever sweats, the pallid color to his face, and the inflamed and wounded skin beneath the chains that bound him. She could see the globules of bloodied phlegm he kept gagging up. Worst of all, she didn’t need to  see the wounds to know they were infected – she could  _ smell _ them. Jemma moved to Skye’s side next to her brother, barely recognizing  his face from the face of the smiling teenager in the picture on their cabin’s mantle. Trip’s eyes briefly flickered to the unknown face. 

“What?” Skye looked at Jemma and then back at Trip, assuming he’d panicked at the stranger next to her. “Hey, no, it’s okay,” She pressed a hand to his cheek. “She’s with me. She’s here to help. We’re gonna take care of  you , get you out of here. It’s okay,” she  assured her brother. She went back to hooking the wrenches into the bars of the padlock. 

“S-Sk…Skye…” Trip’s voice was a little bit stronger now. 

“Just give me a second, okay? I’ll have you out in a second and we’ll get you out of-,” 

“N-no,” Trip forced his head up to lean it back against the wall. His breathing was labored. “Skye…” 

“Trip, no,” Skye shook her own head. She let go of the wrenches in favor of holding onto  him by the side of his face and neck. “I’ll get you out of here, I promise. Just…J-Just stay with me…we’ll….w-we’ll  figure it out, you’ll be alright,” Skye was shaking by then and her voice shook with her. She went back to work and popped the lock, which caused a grunt of pain from Trip and caused his head to loll forward again.  Trip murmured something. Skye leaned close to put her ear near his mouth. “What?” she asked.

Jemma couldn’t hear what he murmured, but from the way Skye recoiled, she could hazard a guess. He either wanted her to leave him behind or…Jemma pressed a gentle hand to Skye’s back but said nothing. This was Skye’s brother. This entire situation was incredibly horrific. It wasn’t Jemma’s place to decide what to do. 

“No!” Skye snapped, shaking her head as she recoiled. “No! I won’t, I can’t…you can’t…” Skye wrapped her arms around Trip’s neck and pulled his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder again. She was shaking her head the whole time as she held tightly to him. “Please don’t make me,” she begged quietly, rocking with him. “Not you too,” she cried. “I can’t…I can’t do that.” 

“I don’t…” Trip’s words came slow, with multiple hard fought breaths between them. It took the last ounces of his strength to force them out, “w-wanna…turn i-into…” 

“Shh, shhh, you won’t, you won’t,” Skye insisted. “You’re gonna be okay. I’ll take care of you. W-We’ll find Grant…it’ll be okay, Trip. Please…please, please…just, just fight a little longer and you can rest, we can get you out of here.” She gave up trying to stop her choked up sobs. 

“P-Pleasssse…” Trip rasped. He didn’t want to turn.  No one really knew if there was a consciousness after reanimation.  No one knew if the people that turned only to devour their family and friends knew what was happening and were simply powerless to stop the lust for cannibalistic consumption. And Trip…well Trip had managed to find his way into the worst situation possible – cannibals that  weren’t zombies. Living human beings who had gone so feral they were hunting humans and keeping them captive while devouring them bit by bit.  These were the people who had attacked Skye and Jemma in the town. Were they trying to kill them or wound them so they could bring them back to slower butcher them for food? Jemma shuddered. 

“Okay,” Skye’s voice was impossibly small, it squeaked even, as she agreed. She kissed his cheek, the side of his head and squeezed him tight, unable to stop herself though she knew it had to hurt him. “Okay…I will,” she sniffled and still rocked slightly  as she held onto her brother. “I will, I promise,” She leaned back, covered in bits of Trip’s sweat and the blood he’d coughed out but ignorant of it. “But not in chains,” she sniffled. She was not going to mercy kill her brother while he was wrapped in chains. 

“Skye…” Trip frowned. He didn’t know how long the branded cannibals had been gone, or how long it would be before they came back.

“No,” Skye reached for the chains and Jemma helped. They tried to be as gentle as they could but Trip still let out some strangled sounds that Jemma knew she’d never be able to erase from her memory much like the sight of what was left of the man in front of her. 

When Trip pitched forward, no longer anchored to the wall, Skye caught him. She was fully crying now and didn’t have the strength to curtail it. She sat back on her heels and let his weight rest on her, held onto him. She kissed the top of his shoulder, his neck, the side of his head, his ear. H e made his one word plea a couple of times over the next few minutes. Skye’s trembling hand picked up her knife. Her knuckles paled to a bright white as she gripped the blade in her hand, her arm hugged around his neck, her other hand cradling the back of his head. 

“I-It’s okay…” Trip assured her. 

“I c-can’t…I can’t, I can’t, I…” Skye repeated it as she cried. She knew she had to. She knew it was what he wanted. She knew there was no other option. But the idea of losing Trip, in this manner, when she had finally found him again…Skye couldn’t handle it. She couldn’t. She could do a lot of things – she  _ had _ _done_ a lot of things; she’d done a lot of _terrible_ things. Perhaps this was her punishment for the people she’d killed for the sake of survival. 

“Love you,” Trip murmured into her shoulder, voice tired and calm; he was resigned to his fate. He was calm because he knew now that his sister was alive, that she was safe…and she wasn’t alone. “Do it… _please_.” 

Skye struggled for another few minutes in a feedback loop of trying to talk herself into giving Trip his last wish. She repeated, “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry I was too late,” over and over again alongside the, “I’m sorry, Trip I-I can’t, I c-can’t, I love you.” 

Jemma felt helpless. She wanted to offer to do this for Skye but she knew she couldn’t. Skye had to do it. Skye would never forgive herself if she let someone else do this. So Jemma had to wait and watch it all play out. 

When she finally did it, Skye brought the blade near the base of Trip’s skull where his skull met his neck. She took a few deep breaths, sniffling on some of them. She held Trip tight to her chest, against her neck and shoulder. “I love you,” she kissed the spot  above his ear, ground her teeth together and jammed the knife as hard as she could through  the side of Trips neck just below the base of his  skull, ensuring it was forceful enough to instantaneously kill him so he wouldn’t have to endure anymore pain.

Simultaneously, Trip expelled a strangled gurgle and collapsed limply against Skye and Skye let out a long, screaming wail of a sob the likes of which Jemma had never heard from a human. It was animalistic and tortured. She pulled the knife free and it fell from her hand. The artery that had been severed with Trip’s spinal cord seeped its last gushes of blood onto Skye but she wasn’t aware of anything going on around her. Skye sobbed, unable to restrain her tears or her anguish. She slipped to sit on the cold floor, rocked absently with Trip's body, gripping so tightly to him that her fingers dug deep divots into his skin. “I’m sorry,” the apology burbled out between her sobs as she stared blankly at the wall that Trip had previously been chained to. 

Jemma’s own eyes were welled and she fought to keep them from spilling over as she watched the terrible torment Skye was going through. She didn’t know what to do. All she knew was that they needed to make sure they were gone before the others returned. She didn’t know how long she let the scene before her play out; it was much longer than hour. Jemma couldn’t bear the haunted look on Skye’s open and blindly staring eyes. She reached out placed a gentle hand on Skye’s shoulder. Skye didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She remained where she said. Her body  jolted in post-cry hiccups. Her tears still fell steadily down her cheeks. The sobs had died down to exhaled shuddering whimpers of her whispered apology. 

“Skye,” Jemma said her name. “I-I’m so sorry, I-,” 

Jemma cut her words off when Skye sat up straight. She sniffled and kissed the side of Trip’s head one more time. Very gently, she laid him down. As soon as she did it, Jemma felt her stomach roll at the sight of the other woman; covered from chin to lap in blood, bits of scabbed blister and splotches of pus. Her eyes were blank and her face hollow. She didn’t recognize the person before her though she had been with Skye every day for over a week now. Her gaze was vacant, cold. Skye picked up her knife. She wiped it on the leg of her pants and slipped it into its sheath on her thigh. She grabbed her flashlight and turned it off. 

Kneeling next to Trip’s body, she leaned over and kissed his cheek once more. “They won’t do this to anyone else, I promise you.” She murmured. She was on her feet, unsteady at first, in a moment. Jemma scrambled to grab her flashlight and climbed to her feet. When she wiped at her cheeks, the flood on her hands smeared over her face.

“Skye,” Jemma said her name again but Skye was already moving for the stairs with determination, her jaw ground taut. Jemma had no choice but to follow, with a single glance back over her shoulder at what was left of Skye’s brother. “What are you-,” 

“I’m going to kill  every last one of them.” 


	15. You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** Hell hath no fury like a mentally broken Skye.  
> But seriously: Action, anxiety, extreme detail of graphic violence, gore and death. Faint of heart beware: terrible things lay ahead. 
> 
> Panyan, I am selincerely sorry for the torment will bring you, as always, I promise I'll make it up to you in the next Fluffinator update! 
> 
> As always, thank you everyone for reading and for all the kudos, comments and love! Forgive me for my typos, am updating from the mobile again. Point out any major typos/format problems in the comments and I'll fix them. I have a few comments to reply to still, I haven't forgotten you, I promise! <3 <3  
> :) Enjoy!
> 
> \-----------------

“Skye, we can’t do this,” Jemma had spent the last hour hot on Skye’s heels as she made her way around the cabin – inside and out – as Skye laid the ground work for a surprise attack on the cannibals. Jemma did not like the idea of leaving a group of cannibals alive to prey on other people – especially so when she had both the image of that little boy from the other day and the image of Skye’s mutilated brother in her mind’s eye – but she was terrified of the idea of winding up chained in that basement cellar and slowly butchered for food if things didn’t pan out. It was clear that Skye was determined to go down fighting and taking every single one of them out that she could with her. Jemma knew she’d never be that lucky. She didn’t want either of them to be murder or cattle. So she did everything she could to get through to Skye.

Skye was completely closed off to the pleas Jemma issued. Maybe one of the cannibals would get her in a lucky shot, but that wouldn’t matter. By the time the night was over, not a single one of those bastards would still be breathing. She didn’t care that some of them were kids, teenagers. It didn’t matter. They had all taken part in this atrocity and none would be forgiven. They would all die and she would make sure they died in the most painful ways possible.

She rigged traps to snare them, traps to wound them, traps to alert her if they came from different directions the three groups had gone when they left. She started into the cabin to rig traps but a detour into a garden shed changed her mind. Inside were dozens of glass jugs and jars full of what originally looked like water but at a single sniff she knew they were full of moonshine. On the other side of the room were a couple of ten gallon gas cans as well. Skye knew immediately what she was going to do with them.

“Skye, please, we can-,”

Skye rounded on Jemma and the cold, dead gaze in her stare ripped the rest of Jemma’s words from her throat and rendered her silent. Her eyes still pled with Skye to stop and think about what she was doing. Skye lifted two gallon sized milk jugs from the floor and handed them to Jemma. Jemma arched her eyebrows and reached shaking hands out to grab the handles from her, unsure. Skye grabbed the heavy gas cans, relieved that they were full. She stepped past Jemma and Jemma had no real option but to follow.

“Skye…” Jemma tried again. She couldn’t very well give up. She couldn’t find her way through the woods on her own. More importantly, she didn’t _want_ to find her way on her own. Skye had told her that she wasn’t alone anymore and for the first time in months, she had believed that. In turn she had promised to stay with Skye, because Skye had been able to see on her own that she couldn’t make her way alone either. There had to be a way to get through to Skye. Jemma had to find it, and fast. “Please,” She said as she stopped inside the back door of the cabin, mere feet from the entrance to the cellar. The stagnate, dead air, rife with sepsis, blood, burnt flesh and bodily fluids occasionally wafted up through the open door and made Jemma’s stomach roil over.

Skye turned and looked at her but didn’t speak. Jemma was startled to see the look of betrayal in her gaze, as if Jemma even suggesting that she didn’t make the cannibals pay for what they did to her brother was a transgression Skye could never forgive.

“We’re outnumbered here,” Jemma tried to make her case. “There are seven of them. There might be _more_. We need to leave before they come back. We can…we can regroup. We can make a plan to take them out or…or whatever. We need to leave, you need to process what just-,”

Skye set one of the gas cans down and started unscrewing the cap on the other. She stepped past Jemma without a word, that ghostly gaze in her dilated eyes as she walked away. Jemma called after her but Skye was too far gone into her own thoughts of revenge. She emptied the can in heavy double-handed splashes; the floors, the walls, the doorways, the trash littered all about, she doused everything she could. When one can was empty, she dropped it and walked back to where Jemma stood. She could see the concern and the desperation in Jemma’s face and, deep down, Skye wanted to comfort her. But the rage was still too overwhelming, too close to the surface and soaked through her to the depths of her bones all at once. Never in her life had Skye felt the kind of fury that currently coursed through her veins and itched at her palms to break free.

She emptied one of the gallons of moonshine in the kitchen, covering the pantry, the floors, the tables, counters, fridge, the tattered curtains, window frames – everything. The second gallon was emptied all through the back dining room and corridor of the house. Jemma struggled not to reach out for Skye as she picked up the last of the gas cans and turned to go back down into the cellar.

“Skye…” Jemma called her name but Skye was already down the steps and Jemma was afraid to interrupt the ritualistic nature of what must be happening down there.

Skye knelt next to Trips body and stroked her shaking hand over his head. She leaned over and kissed the side of his head and rested her forehead there for a moment. Her shoulders shook and she felt the gag as a sob tried to break from her throat but failed. She wondered if her mother would forgive her for killing her brother. Jiaying would have understood the situation, just as much as she had understood her own. It was Skye who would never forgive herself for this. She forced her way to her feet and unscrewed the cap on the can. She doused her brother’s body in at least a third of the liquid in the canister. She turned the can and let the liquid trail behind her as she walked to the stairs and took them back up to the main level of the cabin. She gave a simple nod toward the back door and, after some hesitation, Jemma led the way out. Skye emptied the last of the gas along the outside of the cabin and tossed the can in the grass.

Digging into her cargo pocket, Skye pulled small silver cylinder out. It was a waterproof container that held strike anywhere matches. Jemma watched Skye pull three of them from the canister. She screwed the cap back on and dropped it in her pocket. Jemma didn’t try to say Skye’s name this time. She watched as Skye’s hands shook while she picked up a small rock and struck all three matches as once. She tossed them through the door way and with an initial _hiss_ followed by a heavy _whoosh_ that seemed to suck the air from Jemma’s lungs the moonshine and the gasoline sparked to flame and in less than a heartbeat the flame began to race. Skye stepped back and watched the conflagration as the flame built upon the fuel and became one massive funeral pyre.

For long minutes Skye and Jemma stood side by side, more than fifty yards back from the house, their backpacks in the grass next to each of them as the flames licked their way to the attic, kissing the sky through the window panes it blasted out, reaching skyward in billows of orange and deep red, in waves thick black smoke. Wordlessly, Jemma’s hand blindly reached for Skye’s and closed around it. Skye tensed but didn’t pull her hand away. She even squeezed Jemma’s hand once, as if trying to let her know that she was still in there somewhere. Just as Jemma turned her head to look over at the other woman, Skye pulled her hand free and grabbed her backpack, hefting it over one shoulder. Jemma frowned. She glanced back at the house, felt the scorching heat of the fire on her face, even at the many yard distance from it that she stood.  She grabbed her pack and turned to follow Skye.

\--

Skye led Jemma back into the foliage and found a tree with good cover to keep her very well hidden. She would be able to see some of the property since she was positioned to the south end. She could certainly see the smoke and some of the flames even from her position.

“Skye,” Jemma tried one more time. “I-,”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Skye’s voice sounded almost as hollow as the look in her eyes. Jemma swallowed against the rising lump in her throat. “It has to be done.”

Skye left her pack with Jemma and dropped down to the ground. She had the collapsible bow attached to her belt, her bowie knife in its holster strap on her left thigh, her gun in its holster strap on her right thigh, her folding buck knife hidden in her right boot, the small six-shot revolver hidden in her left boot, and a plethora of other items hidden in her pockets. She positioned herself to the southwest side of the cabin because this gave her the best possible view of the groups, which would be approaching from the west, the north and the southeast.

Skye kept her gaze constantly moving. Her ears tuned to listen to any noise from anyone (or anything) approaching. She held one of the arrow bolts in her hand and kept the bow, collapsed, in her right hand, prepared to flick the switch to assemble it at a moment’s notice to fire. She knelt. She hid. She waited. It was all that they could do.

The first group to return was the hunting group that had gone off to search to the south. They must have seen the smoke and turned around to head for him. It was nearing sundown, the time of day where the reds, oranges and yellows in the sky matched the flashes of flames bursting from the cabin’s frame. Jemma held her breath when she heard them approaching. They were running. All of them were gasping for breath and shouting in surprise about the smoke and the flames. Jemma stayed perfectly still. She didn’t need to drop a pack, rustle leaves the wrong way or make an unsuspecting noise to alert anyone to her presence. The group was made up of three people; two adults and one teen. All of them, Jemma could see, had the angry red brand on the side of their necks; it was unmistakable even as they were running by through the brush.

“Alex, wait!” The adult woman with the group yelled as the teen burst from the brush into the clearing behind the cabin. ‘Alex’ made it no more than twenty yards out into the open before arrow soar through the air with little more than a soft ‘ _whoosh_ ’ that was barely detectable above the loud, angry crackling cabin flames. Jemma covered her mouth and inhaled air through her nose in a long measure to remain silent as the bolt cut the teenager through the front half of his throat, entering from the left hand side and burrowing through vocal cords with a gurgle of confusion as the point stopped just after poking through the flesh of the right side of his neck.

Alex’s dash ended. He was suspended in space a moment before he landed on his knees as the woman screamed. Alex knelt for a moment, staring ahead at the massive fire before he collapsed forward, choking on his own blood as his severed arteries gushed with each of his remaining heartbeats. The woman made to break free from cover but the adult male grabbed her to try and stop her. He received an elbow to the Adams apple for his trouble. She rushed for the clearing and the man followed, coughing and sputtering but pulling his hunting rifle from his shoulder as he ran. He turned in the direction the arrow had come but Skye had already moved in the wake of the chaos she had created.

Jemma heard rustling nearby and looked to her left. She spotted a blur that she knew was Skye as she rushed through the foliage and made it to the southern point. As the man rushed toward the southeast area, gruffly shouting as he ran with the butt of the gun to his shoulder, aiming as he went. Jemma couldn’t understand what he was shouting but she imagined it was a threat of some kind. Jemma couldn’t see Skye from the angle of the tree she was in but Skye launched another arrow. This one struck the man in his left side between his bottom two ribs. He wheeled in the direction it struck him from and jerked his finger over the trigger of his rifle. The gunshot was much louder than Jemma was prepared for and she barely managed to hold in her own whimper of fear. Instantly, she began looking for Skye. The way the man fell and the way his arms jerked with the kick back left the bullet blasting into the forest and splintering the bark of a tree some feet behind the one Jemma was stationed in.

Skye glanced back for just a beat. Once she was sure the tree Jemma was hiding in was safe, she turned back to the woman who was sobbing over Alex’s body. Skye collapsed the bow, hooked t to her side and pulled her bowie knife from its sheath. She went rustling through the foliage again. She rushed forward as the man wailed and groped at the bolt in his side, unable to pull it out of his side as blood seeped around it. She’d missed his heart it seemed but he was gasping for air.

Skye was on him in second. Just as he noticed her, she swung her arm in a swift flicking motion and instantly the man’s neck opened in a wide swatch. Blood flooded his vocal cords, leaving him gurgling as the teenager had been. He swung his hand, attempting to get a hit in at Skye. Skye buried her knife into his chest. The man slumped, which pulled Skye down. She landed, half kneeling on him as she pulled the knife free and buried it again. And again. And again. And again. Her hands became slick as the man’s blood began to coat her hands and the hilt of the knife. A loud gunshot drew her attention. Jemma screamed her name. Skye looked up and saw the woman standing in front of Alex. She had a bright orange gun pointed toward the darkening sky. A bright flare flew upward, above the dark smoke, and exploded into a brilliant green color.

The woman stared dead eyes filled with tears at Skye. She aimed the orange gun at Skye but it was empty now that she had shot of the flare. Skye grinned at her through the caked dried blood on her face from Trip and the wet blood staining her from the wounds she inflicted on the man. The gun clicked as the woman pulled the trigger over and over again, shock had taken her over. Skye forcefully yanked the knife from the man’s chest and carelessly wiped the blood off on her shirt and pants. She tossed her knife slightly and caught it in a particular hold by the end of the blade in her right hand. She took a step almost like a baseball pitcher and threw the knife with practiced perfect aim. The knife spun end over end through the air in a swift blur until it buried itself into the top of the woman’s gut. She jolted with the hit and her arms fell to her sides and the orange flare gun fell from her fingers. Her gaze fell to the knife in her gut. When she looked up again to find Skye, she was already gone. Skye had turned and rushed off into the foliage cover again. She made her way closer to the woman, who tried to turn to the foliage to find a way to follow. She reached for the knife imbedded in her gut and tried to pull it out but only succeeded in twisting it and lurching over to wretch on the ground at the pain that shot through her.

Skye saw movement behind the woman. Jemma saw it to. Alex. Skye whistled. The woman looked in her direction and staggered. A flood of obscenities burst from her mouth with a spray of bloodied sputum. She staggered another step but made it no further. Alex had stirred behind her, his limbs animating back to life in a hazy, ragged, jerky crawl. His undead corpse latched onto the back of her thigh and his bloodied mouth took hefty chunk out of the back of her thigh. The woman let out a shrill scream. Skye did nothing. She dropped back into the foliage and moved again. Alex continued to go back for more and more bites of the woman – thigh, stomach, side, hands, arms, it didn’t matter. He was a zombie. He’d devour until his stomach burst from fullness. The woman’s screams might even attract more zombies, if any were in the area.

Skye returned to the dead man. She dragged him by the boots toward a column of the cabin’s porch that hadn’t caught quite yet. Ten yard from it, she dropped him and grabbed a set of chains she’d affixed to the column after having pulled them from the basement cellar earlier. She shackled the dead man there by his ankle and then left him just as his hands were beginning to twitch back into animation. She ran back and gathered the hunting rifle, checked the loaded ammunition and chambered a round. She stalked toward Alex and the woman. The woman was still screaming, though the shrill sounds were muted by the fact that Alex had torn out her tongue and had, from the loud cracking sounds of it, broken her jaw. Skye gripped the barrel of the rifle with two hands as she came up behind Alex and swung the butt of it downward once, twice, three, four, five times until his skull was caved in and she had made jello of what was left of his brains.

The woman’s eyes were wide in horror. She was still screaming, gagging on her own bloody fluids, her jaw hanging by threads of flesh and cartilage, chunks of her missing. Skye jammed a boot to her shoulder to hold the woman down and then reached down and unceremoniously yanked her bowie knife free from the woman’s gut. Jemma clenched her eyes shut and covered her ears against the animalistic howl the woman let out. Skye cleaned her knife on rags of the woman’s shirt and slipped it back into its sheath. She ducked back into the foliage cover and left the woman drowning in her own torment.

The sky grew dark quickly as the sun continued its descent into the night. The cabin continued to burn brightly in the clearing. Jemma struggled to find Skye whenever she heard movement. It was extremely difficult to see much of anything and Jemma was actually afraid to leave the tree at this point for fear of Skye mistaking her for one of the cannibals.

The second group to return was the group of three (two adults and one teen) that had left heading to the west. The smoke had them already on their return back to the cabin to investigate. By the time they were within a mile of the cabin, the flare and the blood curdling screams were enough to slow their approach and make them cautious. They were clearly aware that their camp was under some kind of attack and the fire wasn’t an accident if that was the case. They didn’t come bursting from the foliage as the first group foolishly had.

Skye was up in a tree to the northwest corner of the property. She knew that vantage point would give her clear views of the groups that would be returning from the west and from the north. The west group thought they were smart, thought they were approaching quietly but Skye could see the movement of the foliage, unnatural in its staggered sways and shifts, completely unlike the natural swing of leafy plants, trees and shrubbery in the wind. She could hear the cracks of twigs, quieter but still distinctive over the roiling crackle of the inferno that they cabin had become. She heard their hushed voices though she couldn’t make out the actual words. She waited, silent and still, alert and prepared to unleash her fury on them the moment she gave them the chance.

It was the zombie Skye shackled to the porch column that caused the group to break. “DAD!” The teen shouted. The foliage rustled as the girl made to launch herself out of the foliage and toward the groaning ghoul that was straining against its shackled leg to break free and get to them. “LET ME GO! IT’S MY DAD!”

There was a grunt as one of the men with the teenager received an elbow to the gut and dropped his hold on the girl. She raced to the man in the shackle and stopped short, crying as she came face to face with the zombie that was once her father. Skye lined up her shot through the sight of the rifle she’d taken from the man when she’d finished dragging him to the shackle. The girl stood just out of arm’s reach of the zombie. Skye inhaled a deep breath and held it. She double checked her aim and then eased her finger around the trigger and squeezed it. The kickback of the gun against her shoulder slammed her back into the trunk behind her and she grimaced. The rifle’s booming sound temporarily dampened her ability to hear properly from her right ear, which rang for a moment. Above the ringing she heard the scream of pain the teenage girl let out as her left knee shattered out from under her. The girl lurched and fell forward and the shackled ghoul was on her in the next moment, grabbing at her by the hair and shirt. She screamed and tried to fight the zombie version of her own father off as his jowls snapped at her with foaming saliva and black blood spraying at each snap.

The two men split up. The older one ran for the tree Skye was perched in and the younger one raced out from cover with a tire iron in his grip. He went after the girl to try and save her. Skye dropped from the tree on the northern side of it. She sprinted out from the foliage on a chance, running in a waving pattern across the front of the cabin, close enough that she had to duck around the bursting lick of a flame or two. She rounded the cabin and headed for the southeastern corner of the foliage at the back end of the property. A gunshot echoed through the clearing but Skye’s pace never so much as faltered. She was in the foliage again before another shot went off. She tossed the rifle up into the branches of a tree and moved through the foliage at a quick pace but with much more stealth than the cannibals had.

“YOU CAN TRY AND HIDE ALL YOU WANT, GIRL!” The older man of the Western group called out. “I _WILL_ FIND YOU!” He screamed. “AND WHEN I DO-,”

The man never finished his threat because an arrow sailed through the middle of his throat. From her vantage point, Jemma had spotted Skye running and heard the gunshot. She had _barely_ managed to bite her tongue to keep from screaming Skye’s name, unsure if she’d been hit by the bullet or not. Her attention had been on the man when the arrow struck him and she had to clench and avert her eyes as soon as he started retching up and choking on his own blood. She didn’t see the man fall, but Skye did. He dropped to his knees, gun landing next to him, hands clutching at his throat and then pitched forward. When he landed his weight and gravity caused the arrow to jam further through his neck and in the next moment he was still.

Skye waited, listening as the ringing slowly eased in her right ear. Above the barking pops and cracks of the flames from the cabin, she heard the screaming at the front/west side of the cabin as the other man fought off the zombie to free the teenager. She collapsed her bow, clipped it to her belt and ran from the foliage toward the man on the ground. Dropping to her knees next to him, she grabbed the gun he dropped and quickly checked it and made sure a bullet was in the chamber. She flipped the safety and tucked it into the back waistband of her pants. She flipped the man over onto his back when she heard a gargling groan from him. Weight and gravity worked again; the point of the bolt dug into the dirty and the man’s body slipped down the length of the bolt and he issued a strangled cry of pain.

“You found me,” Skye sneered at him. She pulled her knife free from its holster and held it up for him to see, taunting his last visions of the world. He feebly tried to swing his arms at her to push her away. Skye gripped her knife handle and buried it into the middle of his gut, just below his sternum. He gurgled and burbled, eyes going wide as his body seized. Skye gripped the knife with both hands and dragged it downward, roughly cutting a seam through his gut. She wiped her knife on a still clean patch of his pant leg as he twitched and convulsed in the last spasms of his life and sheathed her knife. Then, Skye was off and running again. She disappeared in the foliage.

Jemma saw it all. She fought to control her roiling stomach, to keep from retching and making her hidden position known to anyone. She felt dizzy and terrified. She felt weak. There was rustling nearby but she thought it was probably Skye since she ran back into the tree line. Below her on the ground, she heard a series of noises that sounded like some form of woodland creature. When she looked down, Skye was there looking like a monstrous vision of the woman Jemma had known from the last week. She was covered in blood – and who knew if any of it was her own? It coated her face, her clothes, and her hands. Her hair was matted with sweat, grit and dried blood. It was a grisly sight that filled Jemma with equal parts horror and concern. When her eyes finally connected with Skye’s, however, she was met with a brief glimpse of the real Skye – the one who stared up at her, worried that she might be injured despite her relative safety in the tree.

Without speaking, Jemma merely nodded. Yes, she was alright. Was she really alright, though? Would Skye’s bloodlust disappear with the deaths of these horrid human beings? Was this a permanent psychotic break? Had Skye’s brain just taken one too many punches and now this snap was here to stay? How was she to know?

Skye hesitated and the real Skye disappeared from her eyes as they returned to their dead, hollow vision and she carried on in her quest for vengeance. She moved through the wooded cover around to the western side of the property where the zombie was shackled. The other western group man had killed the zombie with a number of blows to the head but not before it had taken a sizeable chunk of flesh and bone from the girl’s clavicle. She was on the ground, writhing, screaming and pleading with the man who stood over her, his bloodied tire iron hanging from his grip with bits of brain and skull mottled in the blood.

“Please! I’m okay! I-It was from the fall! Henry, please don’t!” The girl begged him through loud sobs.

Henry clenched his jaw. He flexed his fist and gripped the tire iron. “I’m sorry…” He murmured as he raised it in the air. The girl screamed but in the next moment, Henry’s body jolted. The tire iron dropped from his hand. In almost slow motion, he lifted his hand to his mouth, coughed out blood and stared at it in confusion a moment but before he could do anything else, he collapsed forward and landed on the girl. The girl screamed again. She tried to shove Henry’s body off her but he was over a foot taller than her and had at least a hundred pounds of muscle on her and was firmly on top of her as dead weight. A large bowie knife stuck out of his back in the space between his shoulder blades. It was Skye’s bowie knife and she was steadily walking toward them as the girl frantically tried to break free.

“Please! Please help me! T-This man…this man attacked me!” she begged. “Please, you have to help me!”

Skye put her boot on the back of the man’s shoulder, pressing his weight down into her as she groaned in pain, and pulled the knife from the man’s back. She wiped it on his shirt and slipped it into its sheath. She grabbed the man’s head by the back of his hair and repositioned it so his mouth and nose were resting in the crook of her neck and shoulder. Without a word, she patted the back of the man’s head and stood up, satisfied that when he reanimated, he would devour the girl.

“No – no, no, no, no! You can’t! I’m a live human!” The girl sobbed. “I’m alive!” I’M ALIVE – YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”

Skye grabbed the tire iron. She stepped on the girl’s forearm to pin her arm to the ground and with a carefully aimed and forcefully thrown weight, she rammed the spiked end through the girl’s palm until it had pierced clear through the hand and then down into the dirt below her hand, just to make sure she was pinned there for her inevitable death as zombie food. She ignored the girl’s shrill screams as she disappeared back into the tree line to prepare for the last group, the one that held the leader of the cannibals.

 

 


	16. Cat Got Your Tongue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Second verse, same the first:  
>  Action, anxiety, extreme detail of graphic violence, gore and death. Faint of heart beware: terrible things lay ahead.
> 
> Panyan...yeah, I got nothin', sorryyyyyyyyy 
> 
> As always, thank you everyone for reading and for all the kudos, comments and love! Forgive me for my typos, as usual! Point out any major typos/format problems in the comments and I'll fix them. I have a few comments to reply to still, I haven't forgotten you, I promise!  
> I also promise to get to updates on JFOD and Fluffinator soon as well, OTR just has been bouncing around my head space and I didn't want to derail it by diving at the others! <3 <3  
> :) Enjoy!
> 
> \--------------

The fourth, and last, team of cannibals (which consisted of the last teen, one woman, one man and the leader) gave away no trace of their approach. Their leader, a burly man with patch worked facial hair and stunted black Mohawk spiked hair, stood at a bit over six and  half feet tall. He was full of muscle with a handful of grizzly scars dotted his face an arms. He holes where pierces used to be that he’d removed so as to give enemies and zombies less to grab at and tear off of him. He wore what looked like a pair of mechanic's’ coveralls and a white wife beater that had been beaten and splattered to a dingy shade of brown. There were very well worn combat boots on his feet and he had various straps and holsters for weapons all about his body. They approached from the north (the direction they originally left in). Their leader stopped them from moving from the cover of the woods when a look through his binoculars gave him a view of one of his own shackled, turned and killed, one of his own dead and ready to turn on top of one of the teens (who was screaming for mercy) and a blood covered woman forcefully ramming a tire iron spike first through her palm to pin her down.

With a single hand gesture, the leader silenced any sound that the three others may have made at the scene of their home burning to the ground and some of their group lying bloodied, dead and impaled. The leader watched through his binoculars as the bloodied woman turned toward the north as if she sensed his very presence in the air. She stared for a few moments with the wind whipping at stray strands of her matted hair that had come out of her sloppy ponytail. The leader held a hand up when he heard a gun cock off to his right to stop the others from attacking. It made no difference since, in the next moment the woman disappeared, running swiftly into the trees. Leader watched for signs of movement to see where she was heading. He frowned when he realized she’d given him the slip. He hadn’t banked on that.

It was just as well. He was impressed with the carnage she’d managed to bring to his group. Taking into account that the three victims he could see were from two different teams, he hazarded that she’d cut down the entirety of the two other teams. With a few deliberate hand signals he gave out orders to his team; which way there were to disperse and a very clear order to capture their next meal ticket, not kill. Just as he was about to send the others, two zombies came into view, one staggering with an arrow through his throat and his entrails spilling down the front of him, outside of his torso; he tripped over bits of them with every shambling step, drawn by the girl’s screams  and pleas for help. Behind him, was a woman from the southern team, her right arm missing from below the elbow (having been jaggedly bit off by another ghoul), her torso bloodied from a wound, her jaws unable to snap as they’d been torn off their hinges and hung by thin threads of flesh, noiseless with a missing tongue and parts of her leg missing from chunks that had been bitten out. Soundlessly, she dragged herself in the grass behind the man with the leaking entrails, both of them drawn by the shrill screams of the impaled teen next to the cabin.

They converged on her, dropping to dig in, though the woman couldn’t work her jaw to bite, she could certainly scratch and tear flesh free. The teen girl let out blood curdling screams between sobs of fear and pain, unable to break free of her impaled hand and, either way, hobbled by the rifle shot to her knee and pinned under someone more than two times her size, she was utterly helpless.

Leader dispersed his team with their orders and moved to get into his own position.

\--

Once Skye ran back into the tree line, Jemma lost sight of her. She did not, however, lose sight of the young woman writhing on the ground beneath a dead body, screaming for the mercy of her life. A battle raged in Jemma’s mind. Yes, these humans were deplorable and had chosen to take a path that was unimaginable to Jemma even in her most delirious phases of near starvation. She was an academic. She had read Moby Dick, and stories about The Essex, or tales about the Donner party getting stuck in the mountains on their attempt to head west across the states, or the football team that crashed in the Andes and survived over seventy days by eating those that had died in the plane crash with them . She understood that dire circumstances led to dire decisions.

This was not a situation where a group of starving people drew straws to see who was going to give their lives up so that the others might live. This was a very clear decision on their part to survive by abducting other living humans and slowly dismembering and devouring them. There were no adequate words to describe the abhorrent depravity of what must have gone on in that cellar. The walls and floor had been covered in layers of dried blood, in bits of what Jemma now knew had once been other humans, pieces still hung where humans had once been chained. And then there had been Trip…Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and reached up to plug her ears against the spine shuddering screams.

 _Assess the situation_ , she told herself. The cabin was an inferno. Skye lost her mind and the result was a fury of blood lust. Two of the three groups had returned and, essentially, been dispatched by Skye. That left one more group. How many people were in that group? Each of the other teams was made up of groups of three. Were there more in the last group? Jemma closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath and rifled through her memories of their earlier stakeout. Three teams: each had two adults and one of the teenagers…the last had the leader with it.

Jemma’s eyes popped open. The girl in the field’s screams had died, either because she was dead or the ghouls had torn her throat out. Frankly, Jemma didn’t want to know which. She scanned what she could see of the clearing and saw no sign of Skye or anyone from the last remaining group. She scanned what she could see of the tree line and foliage, looking for movement and tried to strain her ears as best as she could to hear any kind of sound that meant someone was moving through the wooded area or approaching the tree she was in. She nearly screamed when the roof of the cabin collapsed inward with a thundering crash that sent flames bursting outwards on all sides. Some splinters of wood siding and framing flew out from the cabin and landed in parts of the clearing, flames still engulfing them and scorching the grassy areas they landed in. The explosion caused the zombie with the arrow in his throat to look up. He staggered to his feet and approached the flaming cabin now that his meal had been consumed and was dead.

Jemma cringed and clenched her eyes again. They popped back open as she heard a metallic snap and a piercing scream of pain erupted far too close for comfort to the tree Jemma was perched in. She forced herself to move slowly so she could turn to the eastern side of the tree, looking through the thick overhang of leaves, she could just barely make out the flailing limbs of someone wearing a red plaid long sleeved shirt. She remembered that Skye had moved some bear traps she had found surrounding the property so that they were hidden in new places that the cannibals wouldn’t know about it. It appeared one of them had just ran through one of the traps and was now stuck in it, on the ground, screaming in pain. Jemma cringed as he started to push the trap open, moving it an inch or so, further tearing bits of his leg muscle and flesh, only to lose his grip which caused the trap to snap shut, shattering more of his bones as he screamed again.

Jemma heard rustling and shifted her gaze. She caught a glimpse of Skye, moving further back in the wooded area than she had been before. She was a blur as she moved silently through the area.

\---

Skye made a wide circuit of the foliage. Someone was here. She could feel it. Something in the air, maybe…intuition, perhaps? Whatever one wanted to call it, Skye knew she wasn’t alone and so she had disappeared into the trees and shrubs after impaling the girl with the tire iron. Her circuit was wider both to move along a different path, more hidden with deeper thicket, and also in the hopes of casting a wide enough net to encircle whoever else was stalking through the trees. She moved at a steady, silent pace, disturbing no brush as she went, making no sound. She had her knife gripped tightly in her hand so that thumb wrapped over the bottom of the handle and the knife stuck out of the outside section of her hand so it would be easier to slash or swing down on someone. She heard the snap of the trap before the scream hit and started making her way in the direction of the trap.

As she approached, she picked up a rock with her free hand. When she reached the screaming man in the bear trap, she brought the rock down hard against the back of his head and he fell back, limp and unconscious to the ground. Skye spotted the axe he'd been carrying – a red painted emergency fire axe, probably pilfered from one of the stores in the small town where they had originally attacked Skye and Jemma. Skye took the axe into her hand as she slipped her knife into its sheath. She tested the weight of it, pulled it up over her head and made a phantom swing. She looked at the man on the ground. He looked like any other human being and that made Skye pause, her stomach swirling. The man groaned and shifted and beneath the collar of his shirt, Skye saw not only the branding of the cannibals sigil but small lines, three sets of four lines each with a diagonal line through it designating the number five. Fifteen...Skye’s brow furrowed. Were these the number of kills he’d made? Did he eat all of those he killed? Did one of those lines stand as a marker for Trip?

Skye ground her jaw tight. She gripped the axe in her hands, brought it high above her head and with all the force her fury could bring to her, she brought it down on the man just below his knee, just above where the bear trap was. The leg didn’t severe completely with one swing and the man definitely woke up with the sudden wound inflicted on him. He screamed and clawed at Skye but Skye was already rounding the axe up in her arms. She brought it down again, ignoring the sprays of blood that splashed her and the surrounding area. On the shirt swing, the man’s leg was severed and he was sobbing as he tried to crawl backwards away. He stared at Skye with wide, terrified eyes, pleading for his life in wet sobs as blood leaked from his leg with every hard pump of his racing heart. Skye clenched her jaw and thought of her brother, thought of his missing limbs, thought of them starving him while living off of his severed limbs, of the stink of him soiling himself and the stench of infection as it spread through him, thought of the last horrible choked sound he let out as she killed him to spare him anymore torment.

Skye swung the flat side of the axe and hit the side of the man’s face. As his body lurched and spun, teeth flew from his mouth. She jammed her boot down on his wrist and pinned it. The man struggled to break free but Skye was swift in her actions as she swung the axe up an brought it down in the middle of his bicep. She swung again and again and again until the arm was cut free. The man rolled to his side, quickly moving toward unconsciousness and death. He dug through the dirt with his remaining hand, trying to pull himself away. Just as quickly as Skye had arrived and attacked him, she turned, went further into the woods and was off in a different direction as she’d heard someone approaching the bear trap man and wanted to get away so she’d still have an advantage for attack.

\---

“Gavin!” it was the teen the teen that made it through the thick wooded patch to find one of his comrades missing parts of his limbs while half of his leg still stuck in the bear trap. He grabbed Gavin by the collar of his shirt and brought him up. “How many are there?” he asked before looking around the area.

“R-Run…” Gavin stammered out in a burble. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp, having gone into shock from the trauma and the loss of blood. The teen dropped him and stood up to a crouch. He had a revolver in his hands and he aimed it out in front of him, hands shaking as he turned in circles, trying to figure out where he should go. He was supposed to follow orders. Orders were to get the jump on the girl. Failing meant one of two things; the girl would kill him…or he would be chained in the cellar as their new meal until they could regroup and find new shelter and animals for slaughter.

Skye moved through the brush to circle toward the eastern side of the area, wanting to make sure she didn’t draw anyone near to where Jemma was hiding. When she thought she was far enough away, she whistled out a few long notes. Immediately she heard rustling from where she’d left the bear trap man. It was the teen heading her way. Unfortunately, a moment later she heard movement from the other direction and realized they were closing on both sides. Skye made a break for it, further out into the woods, hoping that they two of them would run into each other swing/shoot first and then she could take out whoever was left standing.

“Don’t shoot!” The teen shouted when he realized a familiar face was heading right for him, gun aimed high. “Tally, it’s me!” He shouted.

Tally stopped running and tried to catch her breath. “Danny!” She hissed his name in a hushed whisper, looking around. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” Danny mimicked her hushed tone.

“You go that way,” she pointed into the slope of the thick woods and she pointed to the direction that he came from. “I’ll go that way.”

“Don’t – Gavin-,”

“I heard him screaming,” Tally rolled her eyes and checked again that she had a bullet in her gun’s chamber. “He’s always been a little pussy anyway,” she muttered. “Go.”

They split up.

It was the worst move they could have made. Skye made a point of rustling about when she knew the teen, Danny, was the only one chasing after her. He was tall and lanky, not very muscular. He was definitely scared, Skye could see that all over his face. Every time she saw that fucking branding, her blood boiled. She waited behind a particularly thick oak tree, counting paces as she heard them through the leaves off to her left hand side since that ear hadn’t been damaged from the rifle crescendo earlier. Just as Danny was about to step past the tree, on her left, Skye planted her feet and swung the axe as hard as she could. He connected with Danny’s side, crushing through ribs into his side. His progress stopped abruptly and he let out a startled, strangled gurgle. Skye watched his brow furrow before his eyes rolled up into his head  and he collapsed forward to the ground, jamming the axe further into his chest.

Skye turned then and headed in the direction Tally had ventured, knowing she was edging closer toward Jemma.

\--

Jemma didn’t know where any of them were. She heard the whispered but they were brief. Were it not for the fact that the woman stepped on a branch and broke it, Jemma would have never known she was approaching the tree. Jemma quickly grabbed her gun and very quietly made sure the safety was off. Her hands shook as she held onto it, trying her best to take slow, deep breaths without making any sound when she did so.

Time seemed to standstill as Jemma watched the woman, Tally, stop at the base of the tree and look upward. Their eyes locked. A slow, devious smile spread over Tally’s mouth. She cocked the hammer of her gun back and started to raise her hands up but before she could a ruddy, blood covered hand gripped her by her forehead, yanked her head and upper body backward and, in one clean, deliberate motion, Skye’s bowie buried an inch deep into the flesh of Tally’s throat and then sliced through flesh, muscle, vocal cord and tissue in a slicing sweep. She let go of Tally as blood spurted from the wound in timed gushes with her heartbeats. She collapsed to the ground, sprayed gushes of bright red blood across the tree’s trunk. Skye started to look up into the tree but before she could, a blur rushed through the brush and tackled her.

“SKYE!” Jemma’s screamed Skye’s name before she could even think to stop herself. She moved along the branches of the tree, looking to get a view of what was happening but couldn’t find either of them.

Skye let out a hard grunt, the force of whatever tackled her plus landing on the ground knocked the wind out of her and they continued to tumble down part of a small embankment. When they came under control, Skye was stuck under the weight of a very tall, muscular man with a terrible Mohawk and gnarly scars all over his face. Her knife was gone. Her gun was pinned by his legs on either side of Skye’s hips and thighs. Before she could swing at him, his hands wrapped around her neck (they were big enough that one would have easily gripped her entire neck around) and squeezed.

Skye felt the immediately dizziness as he cut off her windpipe and the blood flow to her brain simultaneously. She had seconds to act before she would be unconscious and the game would be over. The man, the leader of the group, leaned down close to her, sneering at her as he squeezed his grip tighter, causing Skye’s eyes to bug slightly out of their sockets.

“Cat got your tongue?” He smirked at her. Skye struggled, involuntarily tried to gasp for breath to no avail. Her vision blurred as the darkness started to surround her. “That’ll be the first thing I eat for my victory meal,” He grinned at her.

Skye caught sight of the brand on his neck as he leaned closer and felt the sudden urge to tear his throat out with her teeth if she had to. She let go of where she was clawing at his hands. She curled her fingers in and swung her hand as hard as she could from her position and hit him square in the solar plexus. His grip slackened as his diaphragm spasmed with the blow and Skye swung this time at his Adam's apple. With a choke, the man fell off of her and Skye scrambled to get a safe distance back, coughing, gagging and gasping for air as she went.

They traded blows. Leader swung his knife and Skye barely managed to duck out of its reach but still wound up with a shallow slice along her right cheek. Skye took a flying leap and kicked him with both feet in the center of his chest. Leader fell to the ground. Skye threw herself back up onto her feet and ran. Knowing the number count was in her favor, she took off into the clearing at the fastest pace she could.

Leader let out a loud war cry as he chased after her, which allowed Skye to judge how close he was to her. She looked over her shoulder when she knew she had a clear space for running without tripping and as he dove to tackle her, Skye turned, dropped back toward the grass and used the oversized man’s momentum and her feet to throw him up and over her head into the grass just in front of the cabin. He landed on some of the burning splintered bits of wood that had been thrown out of the cabin when the roof collapsed in and had to roll about and smack out some of the fires. This gave Skye just enough time to scramble to her feet. She clawed at the grass to pull herself along as her feet found purchase and she pulled herself up to run. She headed for a section of the tree line where she knew she had arrows planted in the dirt to grab. As she ran, she pulled the collapsible bow free from her belt and blindly clicked the button and flicked her wrist to assemble it in one go.

Grabbing a bolt from the ground, Skye didn’t stop moving as she pivoted and went toward the east, angling out of the brush and into the clearing. Leader was already on his feet again and now he was fucking _pissed_ with this little shit. He pulled a gun from a holster at the back of his belt as Skye stopped running, planted her feet brought the bow and arrow up to aim it. She made a quick aim and released the bolt before she turned and ran, this time at a zigzag, back into the woods. Leader jerked as he pulled the trigger on his gun, the arrow having hit him in the bicep, and his bullet went wide and crashed into a tree to Skye’s right as she ran past it.

She decided she would head toward the East and round up to the Northeast section before she rounded to come back on Leader with her gun. She wanted to keep him away from Jemma in case he’d heard Jemma screaming her name before. She collapsed the bow and clipped it to her belt as she ran. Then she pulled her gun free, never stopping, flipped the safety off and chambered a round and held it out, facing the ground as she moved, breathing hard and shallow as her mind raced.

She only made it made fifty yards before she heard five shots in rapid succession coupled with Jemma’s screams. Skye came to an immediate stop, eyes going wide. _Jemma._ In the next breath she was sprinting out into the clearing and directly for the tree she’d left Jemma hiding in as fast as her feet would take her, her heart racing so fast and hard she thought she might pass out. She wasn’t aware of consciously thinking about it, but she screamed Jemma’s name as she ran.

 


	17. Your Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Because it holds the conclusion of the fight, the following still applies:  
>  Action, anxiety, extreme detail of graphic violence, gore and death. Faint of heart beware: terrible things lay ahead.
> 
> My own anxiety was very strong last night and gave me wicked insomnia so the following will contain typos (sorry!) because my eyes are a bit bleary and catching less typos than normal. If there are any major ones, as always point them out and I'll fix them!! 
> 
> As always, thank you everyone for reading and for all the kudos, comments and love!  
> Enjoy!   
> <3   
> :)
> 
> \---------------

_Jemma_ , Skye’s mind screamed the name at her as she ran, _Jemma! Jemma, Jemma, Jemma – please, not her too_.

Jemma had both heard and saw Leader coming her way. By the decisive way he stalked in her direction, she knew her position had been compromised. So Jemma felt like she had no choice but to quickly climb down to the ground and run. Unfortunately, she landed wrong on a tree root and twisted her ankle. She hit the ground hard as her legs gave out with the sprain and as she as pulling herself to her feet with the help of the tree trunk, two bullets hit; one of them blasted into the tree trunk and sent splinters of bark whipped at her cheeks and face. Jemma barely had time to close her eyes to keep from having a splinter whip into it. She screamed once as the second bullet came immediately afterward and spun Jemma halfway around as it barreled through the outside flesh just below the turn of her shoulder. She realized, just as her brain was screaming, _I’VE BEEN SHOT!_ That it was a graze wound and she turned to run, hobbling as she did, edging outward from the inner clearing area while trying to make sure she was obscured by trees whenever possible.

Another few shots went off. One that hit a tree to her left hit it a few moments after she rushed from behind it. The next bullet whizzed by her left ear and clipped the top of it, which caused her to scream again, unable to restrain the fear coursing through her. Jemma stumbled just as she hit a four foot embankment and she went tumbling down it through the weeds, the underbrush, dirt and rocks.

When she landed, Jemma’s vision spun around her for a moment. She planted her hands and knees into the ivy, grass and weeds and pushed herself up on all fours to reorient herself. She looked up the embankment and felt her heart jam into her throat when she saw Leader standing at the top edge of the embankment. There was a sinister, sneering grin on his scarred face. He lifted his gun and deliberately checked that there was a bullet in the chamber. He aimed purposefully toward Jemma’s legs and she realized immediately that his plan was to wound her so he could capture her. She started to scramble, trying to find purchase to get to her feet.

Two things happened as she looked up the embankment at the man, he pulled the trigger but not before the blurry ball of fury that was Skye came flying from out of nowhere and leaped onto his back. Her legs wound around him and her hand clawed at his face after she had knocked the gun from his hand. Because of it, the bullet went wide, though Jemma still dove to the side and tucked herself into a ball for a moment. Leader went down and Skye went with him. Jemma began clawing at the embankment to scale it the moment Skye went down out of her sightline.

Skye and Leader were back to trading blows. Knuckles split open with each fierce punch. Leader’s nose smashed and bled down his mouth and chin. Skye’s shallow cheek gash pulled opened further. Skye reached for her gun. Leader knocked it away and swept her feet out from under her. The wind was knocked out of Skye as she landed, hard, on her back. Skye rolled out of the way of a punch Leader threw down at her with all of his weight, which resulted in Leader breaking a number of his fingers as his fist slammed into the hard ground of dirt, rocks and roots. Skye ran as he screamed obscenities and threats and gave chase. He caught her in the clearing, in a tackle and pinned her on her back.

“You don’t need to look pretty to taste good!” He licked the blood from his lips that has spilt from his broken nose and reeled back to swing at her. Skye had bent her leg back and pulled her hidden knife out. It was a small 3-inch military blade made for slashing in a bind. It flicked open with the swift flick of her wrist as her hands caught it and pulled it free. She swung swift crisscross slashes that caught Leader about his forearm and then his chin as he squirmed about to dodge the swings. Leader caught Skye’s wrist and squeezed so hard she was sure he’d cracked bones in her wrist. Her grip on the knife faltered and it fell. Leader picked it up with one hand and wrapped his other hand around her neck. Skye clawed at him as he raised the knife and prepared to bring it down on her. A shot rang out and Skye watched as Leader’s eyes widened just as his body jolted and froze on top of her. Skye’s own eyes were wide and wild. Five more shots rang out, _Bang...bang, bang, bang, bang!_ Leader’s body jolted with each one and then, as if in slow motion, Skye’s knife dropped from his hand to the grass as he collapsed face first off to the side of her in the grass.

Past where Leader had be obstructing her view, in the bright orange light of the still raging inferno of the cabin’s flames, Skye saw Jemma standing there, both hands on the revolver Skye had given her a little over a week and a half ago. The hammer was still clicking as Jemma reflexively continued squeezing the trigger one, two, tree, four times. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Skye could see the end of the gun shaking almost as violently as Jemma’s shoulders.

_Jemma_. As quickly as she could, Skye climbed to her feet and rushed for Jemma, who staggered on her injured foot and started to waver. Skye tried to catch her fall but they both wound up going down into the grass on their knees. “Jemma,” Skye breathed her name as Jemma dropped the gun to the grass and flung her arms around Skye’s neck. Her face was in the crook of Skye’s shoulder in the next moment, not at all caring about the muck and mess splattered all over Skye as she cried.

Skye took in their surroundings, more than a little wild eyed still. It was dark (outside of the light from the fire). There was no way they would be able to make it back to the safe house cabin tonight, especially with injuries. She kept an eye out, as well, for the roughly four or five zombies she still had to dispatch of; the ones she had created of the cannibal team members. One of them had walked himself into the fire of the cabin. She hoped a couple more of them did. Right now she had to focus on Jemma.

“Are you okay?” Skye asked. She leaned back and put her left hand on the right side of Jemma’s face and neck and inspected the wet streak of blood stemming down from the top of Jemma’s left ear. “Hey, hey, Jemma…look at me,” Skye could feel her own hands shaking as she tried to break through Jemma’s shock. Jemma blinked and sniffled. She looked at Skye warily, eyes still brimming and spilling over with tears, trying to come back to herself while simultaneously inspecting to see if the real Skye had returned. She seemed unsure and wavered and Skye steadied her. “Are you okay?” she asked as she began inspecting Jemma’s ear and then her bleeding shoulder.

Before Skye could get a good look, a long rolling groan from behind them called Skye’s attention away from Jemma. She reluctantly tore herself away from Jemma and grabbed her smaller, hidden gun from her boot. She took the ghoul out with a single headshot and then put one between the eyes of the crawling woman from the first team. That left two more to dispatch of before she could get Jemma out of here and somewhere safe to look at her wounds.

Skye didn’t want to leave Jemma in the state she was in so she had to wait for the noise from the gun to draw the others so she could take them out. Lastly, she walked over and put her last two bullets into Leader’s head to make sure he didn’t come back. Jemma was huddled into a tight ball in the grass, rocking herself as she sniffled. Skye approached her carefully. She touched Jemma’s arm and knelt in front of her. “J-Jem…?” she called her name.

Jemma’s eyes shifted and she looked at Skye. Skye pushed some matted hair out of her face. “Jem…we gotta go, okay?” She kept her voice as steady as she could, trying to muster her strength as her adrenaline was rapidly draining from her now that the job was done. Trembling, Jemma nodded. Skye helped her up to her feet, wrapped her arm around Jemma’s waist and held tight and then pulled one of Jemma’s arms around her shoulders to keep her upright as they walked. After gathering Jemma’s gun and her folding knife, Skye brought Jemma back to their hiding tree and set her down against the tree trunk. She climbed up into the tree and gathered their backpacks.

She reloaded Jemma’s gun and held it out to Jemma with one of the LED flashlights from their packs. Jemma shook her head. “Jem…I need to gather some of our stuff before we get out of here. They’re all gone now,” she assured. Jemma stared at her, the shock was affecting Jemma for sure. She was pale and trembling and looked like she might pass out. Skye grabbed and extra flannel from her backpack and managed to get Jemma into her and to button it up despite her own marled, sore and shaking hands. “If anyone who isn’t me or anything comes near you, either shoot it or shoot into the air and I’ll be back in seconds. I promise.”

Skye moved to stand and Jemma gripped her forearm in terror. Her brow furrowed as she begged Skye not to leave her. Even in her terrifying state with all the wounds and stains around her face, chest, arms and hands, Jemma knew her safety lay with Skye.

  
She begged her not to leave. “I promise I’ll be back before you know it…” she kissed Jemma’s forehead and reloaded her small gun before dashing off with it and her flashlight to find her handgun, her bowie knife, her bow and what she could find of her bolts and to grab a few other supplies from the moonshine shed since the flames from the cabin hadn’t reached it yet.

\--

With each of them laden with a backpack around them and moving with Skye holding up Jemma’s weight by an arm around her shoulders and an arm around her waist, moving through the woods was an extreme slow process between their exhaustion and injuries. After almost an hour and a half they’d only made it a little bit over a mile. Skye’s adrenaline was majorly crashing and she knew Jemma’s ankle couldn’t take much more. They happened by a small general store that had a mechanic’s garage behind it. Skye checked through the general store first after setting Jemma down to make sure it was clear and to see if there was anything they could use in there. Then she collected Jemma again and brought her to the garage.

Thankfully, the mechanic’s garage was clear and it also had easily lockable grates and doors. Sky secured them inside the back small office of the garage and then set up their portable lantern. Jemma was still shivering but Skye knew by now that this was from a combination of shock and the temperature dropping a good ten to fifteen degrees when they were gone from the heat of the inferno Skye’d turned the cabin into. Skye’s body wanted her to breakdown. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry for the images of her brother that were now burned into her mind’s eye but, louder than the rest of the noise in her brain were the overwhelming reminders that she needed to take care of Jemma.

Jemma blanched when she looked at Skye in the lantern light. Skye was absolutely covered in…everything; dirt, grass, blood, brain, even fragments of bone matter. “Jemma,” Skye said her name softly and Jemma’s eyes shifted to Skye’s. “You’re gonna be alright…” she promised, already reaching to rub her hands quickly up and down Jemma’s arms and her back in an effort to warm her up. Jemma stared directly into her eyes for a long few moments; her own eyes welled heavily with tears still. Once again she threw her arms around Skye’s neck and clung to her. She buried her far into Skye’s dirty hair and sweaty, dirty neck and cried.

Skye hesitated. She felt the disconnect within herself between the reassuring, gentle, actual real Skye she wanted to be and the Skye who felt broken, lost and full of rage. The tug of war pulled heavily on her as she moved her arms around Jemma and tried to hold her as carefully as possible, as if Jemma might actually crack and disintegrate at her touch.

“I know,” Skye murmured into her ear. “I’m sorry,” She added afterward. “We’re okay,” she repeated a few times. She waited until Jemma’s shoulders stopped bobbing and her cries were reduced to post-cry spasms and sniffles before she pulled away. She felt a pull in her gut shift her closer to her real self at the whimper of protest Jemma let out when she pulled away. “Hey,” Skye whispered, tucking Jemma’s hair behind her ear. “We have to clean those up and check on your ankle,” she nodded toward Jemma’s ear and then shoulder.

“You’re injured too,” Jemma reached to touch a spot on Skye’s cheek below the gash that had stopped bleeding. There was dried crust of blood all over Skye.

Skye nodded. “We’ll fix me up after you,” She assured. Jemma frowned, her brow furrowing and Skye could see that she was very slowly returning to herself.

Skye dug through the backpacks. She’d found some packs of mechanic’s towels in the general store and used one of the jars of moonshine to start cleaning the dirt and caked on, dried blood from her hands, gritting her teeth and grimacing at the stinging pain it caused as it splashed through her split knuckles. She scrubbed her hands until they were raw, but clean enough to take care of Jemma’s wounds. She cleaned and patched up the top of Jemma’s ear and then mad her take the flannel, her jacket and a thermal shirt she had on under off, leaving her in a dirty tank top. Skye cleaned over Jemma’s arm and frowned at it since cleaning it made it bleed again.

“It needs stitches,” Jemma murmured as she looked at the gunshot graze wound. Skye nodded. “I can-,”

“No,” Skye shook her head. She knew Jemma’s hands were still trembling because on of them was clutching the front middle of Skye’s shirt as if she feared that Skye would disappear if she let go. “It’s okay…I can…” she cleared her throat and reached into their medical kit for the appropriate supplies. “I can do it,” she assured. Jemma watched Skye carefully but didn’t say another word. Skye cleaned off the supplies with the moonshine. She reached up with the threaded hook but saw her own hand shaking and clamped her free hand around her wrist to steady it. She took a long breath in through her nose and forced it out quickly to steady herself. She hesitated and glanced at Jemma, who only gave her a small nod to tell her to do it.

Jemma bit hard into her own lip as Skye worked, eventually resting her forehead against Skye’s shoulder and letting out an occasional grunt when the pain course on one of the hooks. Skye tried to work quickly by carefully. Both of them breathed a small sigh of relief when she was done. Skye cleaned off the outside of the wound for the third time after she was finished and then covered it with thick gauze pad that she taped over it. Over that she wrapped a few layers of gauze around it and Jemma’s arm entirely. She helped Jemma back into her thermal shirt and the flannel shirt when she was done and then made her sit back against one of the walls. She pulled Jemma’s foot into her lap and carefully removed her boot, careful of her every movement and glancing at Jemma’s contorting face as she did it. Jemma hissed in pain as Skye’s fingers very carefully probed the swollen ankle.

“Sorry,” Skye murmured, absently rubbing Jemma’s shin as if to apologize for the pain she caused. She looked at Jemma. “I know it hurts,” she said. “But can you move or roll it at all?” she asked. Jemma frowned. Her brow furrowed in concentration and she took a deep breath, ground her teeth and tried to rotate her foot. Her toes wiggled first, and then her foot rotated just the very slightest as she grunted in pain. “Okay, okay that’s good, you can stop,” she assured and Jemma exhaled a long sigh.  Skye pressed two different spots on her foot and ankle, checking to feel the pulse points there to see if they seemed like they were pumping normally through the bruised tissue. “It doesn’t seem broken,” She said and Jemma nodded in agreement. Skye dug through the medical kit again and when she found an ace bandage began to wrap Jemma’s ankle. She tried to be careful but made sure to use necessary pressure to wrap it. When she was done she used a health amount of medical tape to stabilize it further.

“You’re in luck,” she lifted an item up, a white plastic pouch and smacked it between her hands. “The store had a cold pack,” Skye situated Jemma so her leg was propped up above the height of her hip so it was elevated and arrange the cold back around her swollen ankle.

Skye moved to start cleaning up but Jemma reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Your turn,” she nodded toward Skye’s cheek. “That needs cleaning and stitches,” she said. There was no real telling where else Skye was injured. Skye frowned and Jemma nodded to urge her to come over for inspection. Jemma took one of the rags and doused it in the moonshine. She began to clean Skye’s face to clear it of crusted blow and debris. She cleaned the cheek last since she knew it would hurt and would started bleeding again. She murmured a few apologies as she scrubbed the area clean while Skye winced and hissed. Skye took a health chug or two from one of the other moonshine jugs she’d grab to use as sanitizer and then kept her facial muscles as still as possible while Jemma carefully sewed her cheek up and taped a very small rectangle of gauze along it. She cleaned the rest of Skye’s arms off and made her change into clean clothes and then she cleaned off Skye’s hands again and wound gauze around them to cover her gnarled knuckles.

Skye felt the pull of darkness and wanted to sleep but she knew they should eat since they hadn’t for a large part of the day. So she coked them a can of chili to share and soaked it up with some bread from the loaf they’d made a couple of days earlier. They ate in silence and then Skye got them settled on the floor, propped up with anything remotely cushy she could find. She made sure Jemma’s leg was propped and that they’d both had enough water before using their packs as pillows and huddling close while trying to use their jackets for blankets. Thankfully the office didn’t have windows so there wasn’t too terrible a draft but they were huddled close together for warmth.

“Jem?” Skye whispered into the darkness awhile after they’d turned the lantern off.

“Yeah?” Jemma whispered.

“I’m…I’m so…so sorry, I-,”

“Shhhh,” Jemma wrapped her arms around Skye and pulled her in. She kissed Skye’s forehead just before Skye’s face was buried into the crook of her neck. “You’d have done it for me,” she said. Skye sniffled and, after a long few moments, Jemma whispered, “I’m sorry about your brother,” she sniffled quickly. “I-If I hadn’t slowed you down in getting to the safe house-,”

Skye lifted her head, her eyes filled with tears and shook her head. “No,” She said firmly, cutting Jemma off. “This wasn’t your fault,” She said as her own eyes filled. She sniffled and closed her eyes against the well of tears. “I promise…I’ll never put you in danger like that again…never…I’m sorry, Jem.”

They wound around each other, fitting their bodies together until they were one interlocking ball of melded human. There were tears and sniffles but there were also murmurs, reassurances to each other; _I’m still here… **we’re** still here. We’re alright. I’ve got you. Breathe._

That was how they fell asleep, one after the other succumbing to exhaustion in each other’s arms.


	18. When You're Flustered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** I feel like I should put something here but am not sure what. If you survived the last 3 chapters, this is a massive cakewalk. 
> 
> <3 as always, you guys rock!  
> I still have some comments to get back to, sorry about that, am working on it! But I see you, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions to things and am open to suggestions should you have any! 
> 
> Forgive me my typos, uploading from my mobile!  
> :)   
> <3
> 
> \-------------------

Jemma was the first to wake in the morning. Skye had stretched her boot sock around Jemma’s carefully wrapped ankle before they’d gone to sleep to keep her foot from going cold but the throbbing ache in the injured foot prevented her from remaining asleep. The pain in her ankle wasn’t the only thing that woke her though. She was sure she’d heard something. Her brain originally convinced her that it was the whimper of an animal of some kind. When she’d cracked her eyes open, Jemma realized two things; Skye was shivering violently and it was Skye making those noises in her sleep. Skye’s face was pressed into the crook of Jemma’s neck and shoulder and, though she couldn’t see Skye’s face, Jemma could feel the way her forehead was contorted and her facial muscles twisted in distress from whatever she was dreaming. She could feel the clammy sweat from Skye’s forehead on her own neck.

Jemma moved slowly, careful so she wouldn’t startle Skye awake in the middle of her nightmare. She pulled the jacket that was wrapped around her own shoulders as a blanket and carefully pulled it to wrap it around Skye’s back and shoulders. Her hands stroked up and down along Skye’s back, hoping to slowly rouse her from the dream while also warming her up. She frowned when another whimper escaped Skye. “Shhhh,” she whispered it as soothingly as possible into Skye’s ear, her lips resting against the outside of it. “We’re alright,” she said. She shifted and managed to wind her both of her arms all the way around Skye to pull her closer.

An animal, or who knew what else, outside knocked over something metal outside the building they were in. Skye’s muscles jerked rigid and she started. Jemma tightened her grip as fiercely as she could. “Skye, it’s okay,” she said quickly.

Skye tried to wrench herself and Jemma let her go but only so she could force steady hands on either side of Skye’s face to direct her wide, wild eyes, forcing them to lock with her own. “ _Skye_ ,” Jemma said her name more forcefully this time. It registered, then, for Skye, that she was awake. Jemma watched Skye’s pupils recede slowly as she took heaving, shallow breaths. “You were having a bad dream,” Jemma told her. One of her hands strayed from Skye cheek to gently run along the outside of her arm. “You’re awake now,” she promised as the pad of her thumb move, very carefully, over the part of Skye’s cheek that wasn’t covered by the bandage she’d put over Skye’s stitches the night before. “Everything’s alright, we’re okay.” She forced herself to say the words with as much conviction as she could while trying to fight the image of Skye in all her savagery from the day before from her own mind.

Skye slowly came back to herself. Her heart still raced in her chest. Her body still shook, not from the cold but from the overload from all that’d happened the day before – all she had done for the sake of revenge, for the loss of her brother. Skye closed her eyes to try and prevent the tears that wanted to come. Jemma urged her forward, back into her arms and cradled the back of her head to bring it to rest against Jemma’s collar and shoulder.

“You’re awake now,” Jemma repeated, wanting to assure Skye that it as just a dream, though she knew it might have been a replay of yesterday. Skye’s arms wound around Jemma and held tightly at her back. Jemma very slowly set them in motion, ever so slightly putting a rocking motion to their embrace. For a long time neither of them spoke.

Skye was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” She murmured into Jemma’s shoulder.

Jemma frowned. “Skye, you-,”

“I was reckless,” Skye cut her off. “And blinded by…” She exhaled a shaky breath, clenched her eyes and shook her head against Jemma’s collar. “I’m sorry.” At the time, Skye had been both in shock from finding her brother in the state he’d been in and what she’d had to do and at the same time had fueled solely by the uncompromising need to obliterate the people who had tortured her brother. She’d done so in a blind fury, not fully cognizant of the true danger subjected Jemma to because of the fact that by that point she hadn’t cared at all what happened to her in the end so long as she killed every last one of the cannibals.

The true scope of what she’d done had begun to hit Skye now that they were just far enough removed from the situation, now that they were out of the direct danger that Skye had put them in to begin with. Skye had systematically murdered ten people – Eleven, if Trip was to be counted. She had done some absolutely grisly and abhorrent things to other human beings for the sole purpose of satisfying her all-consuming need for revenge. She had put Jemma in harm’s way in order to do those things. Jemma had witnessed her do those terrible things. She had almost lost Jemma. Because of her, Jemma had been forced to murder someone.

“Don’t,” Jemma’s voice broke into her thoughts. “It happened. It’s over. Now, we move on.” That was simply what had to happen. Jemma couldn’t dwell on it. She couldn’t sit and let those images haunt her brain. They would break her if she did. That meant that she had to make sure Skye kept with her, kept present and focused on whatever needed to be done in the immediate future. In their current case, that meant they needed to re-wrap Jemma’s foot so she’d be able to fit her boot back on and then they had to make their way back to the safe house. They could figure out the next move once they were in the cabin and then they could take it a step at a time from there.

“Jem-,”

“I could have left,” Jemma cut her off. “I could have gone back to the cabin while there was still enough daylight. I chose not to. You didn’t make that choice for me.” She insisted. “You did what you had to do. I did what I had to do to try and make sure you came back.” She knew Skye wasn’t quite ‘back from it,’ yet. They would both need time to reconcile the things they’d seen the day before. But the Skye that was with her now was not the Skye that had snapped yesterday and gone on a revenge rampage. This Skye was the original Skye she’d met just a couple of short weeks ago, this was her Skye. Jemma meant to keep that Skye with her by whatever means possible. Skye had given her a reason to actually want to continue on, to try and actually live rather than just merely surviving for the sake of not dying. Jemma refused to fail Skye when she might now need the same in return.

\--

Jemma wasn’t sure how long they laid there; wrapped around each other but eventually they disentangled from one another and began to collect themselves. Skye unwrapped Jemma’s ankle and then very carefully rewrapped it, tight but not constricting circulation, but also with just enough layers to stabilize her ankle but still enabling them to get Jemma’s boot on and tied properly. Jemma did her best to ignore the throbbing pain in the sprain. They changed into the cleanest clothes each of them had and worked their way through some of the dried foods they had to get that and some water into their stomachs. Skye dug through the first aid kit until she came up with some ibuprofen to give Jemma now that she had food in her stomach, to help with her foot.

Jemma rearranged and packed up their backpacks while Skye went to look for anything she could pull together to make a crutch or walking stick for Jemma so that she’d have that and Skye to lean on to try and get them back to the cabin faster. She didn’t find anything inside the garage itself that could be used for a sturdy enough crutch without being overly heavy or cumbersome so Skye let Jemma know she was going outside and would be back as quickly as she could.

Skye took her time outside, made sure no ghouls were lurking around their temporary stopover, made sure there were no humans lurking either. She dug her hand saw from her pocket and climbed up into one of the closest trees she could find so she could saw down a suitable branch that split into a Y at the end. When it was on the ground she used the saw to strip it down and then to truncate the Y-shape so it would fit under Jemma’s arm. She held it up to herself to judge the length and when she was satisfied it would do, she headed back inside. Skye used some of the floss string to tie a handful of the mechanics rags and one of their dirty shirts around the top of the makeshift crutch to cushion it.

It was late morning by the time they double checked that they had all the supplies they could find from the shop and got on their way. Skye helped Jemma, walking on her uninjured side with her arm around Jemma’s waist and Jemma’s arm around her shoulders. It was an excruciatingly slow process. Jemma hobbling along with the help of Skye and the crutch, trying to avoid putting pressure on her foot whenever possible but also avoiding tripping over anything in the woods as they walked. It wasn’t anywhere near as stealthy as Skye usually kept them while moving.

Every half hour or so, Skye stopped them and set Jemma down for a break. She tried to carefully ration out their dried food so that it was enough to give them energy but not too much that it caused them to sugar crash and enough water to keep them going without using the last of their reserves all at once. Jemma was very conscious of the fact that Skye had grown quiet and distant through the whole thing. Whenever she helped Jemma up to continue on their trek from their breaks, she would start off encouraging Jemma to keep going but eventually the words tapered off into silence. Jemma was unsure if Skye was doing this to make less noise or if she was just trying not to collapse under the weight of her decisions. Unfortunately with all her effort concentrated on trying to focus on their pace and movement to distract herself from the pain, her brain failed her in trying to keep Skye talking.

Even though they only had a handful of miles to go – something that just the day before had only taken them a couple of hours the day before, going uphill no less – it was late afternoon heading into evening by the time the cabin came into view. They should have stopped for a rest but Jemma insisted that they could make it the last hundred yards or so. Skye helped Jemma sit by the back door and made a circuit of the cabin, checking the traps to see if any had been triggered by intruders. She was surprised to see that none of them had. She checked the front door and made sure it was locked up. The windows seemed like they were all in proper place and didn’t look like they’d been pried open. Skye returned to Jemma, sitting by the back steps, her gun drawn and gripped properly in her hands as a precaution, despite the fact that she, frankly, never wanted to touch the thing again.

“It looks like no one’s been here,” Skye slipped her gun back into its holster but didn’t button the snap. She pulled the necklace chain from around her neck that held the three keys for the cabin on it and glanced around them. “I want to go in and be sure first and then I’ll come back to get you.” She said.

Jemma wanted to protest. She had a sprained ankle. She wasn’t completely inept. She was, however, too tired to stubbornly fight. So, with reluctance about being left alone again, Jemma nodded. “Be careful,” she said even though she knew that Skye would.

Skye gave her a nod and then climbed the small set of back stairs. She opened the storm door, slow and quiet. There was no need to make a racket to announce their presence in case someone _was_ inside. If there was someone inside, Skye didn’t know how they would have gotten in. After what happened, Skye was just fine with using an abundance of precaution right now. She turned the key in the lock then turned the knob and, with a deep breath, pushed her way inside while simultaneously pulling her gun from its holster, just in case.

Jemma waited. She strained her ears to listen for sounds of any trouble. It felt like hours but Jemma knew it was a just a couple of minutes. She used the crutch Skye made her to climb awkwardly to her feet and then propped the crutch under her armpit to lean on it. She still held the gun and she kept an eye out, covering their surroundings, but she was anxious as she waited for Skye to return and only breathed a sigh of relief when the back door opened and Skye emerged from it with her weapons in their holsters. She pulled the chain back over her head and tucked it beneath her collars as she descended the stairs.

“Let’s get you inside,” Skye said as she moved to help Jemma walk again.

They made it inside and Skye set Jemma down in the living room, propped her leg up on the coffee table under some pillows after they’d dropped their packs in the kitchen.

“I’ll make us some dinner,” Skye turned to leave but Jemma caught her wrist and hand and Skye paused. She looked down at her hand as Jemma’s hand wrapped around it and squeezed tightly. Skye glanced back at Jemma but kept her eyes ducked just below Jemma’s, staring mostly at the ledge of Jemma’s cheek instead of looking directly at her. Jemma said nothing. She watched Skye’s face carefully but only squeezed Skye’s hand tighter for a few seconds and then (reluctantly) let go.

Skye turned and headed for the kitchen.

\--

Skye made them a large meal, mixing some of the meats they had with baked potatoes and roasted vegetables. She’d cooked up a couple of cans of fruit cup as well to fill them up fully after the long, physically and emotionally draining days they’d had. Both of them had slightly swollen bellies by the time they were finished. Jemma was sure she could have passed out on the couch for the rest of the night but Skye wanted to make sure she was upstairs since it was safer, at least in Skye’s mind.

Jemma made to try and stand, reached toward her crutch but before she grabbed it, Skye had already bent and scooped her up, bridal style. She would have protested since Skye was just as worn out as her but Skye was already at the stairs and climbing them with her.

She brought Jemma into the bedroom and set her on the edge of the bed and told her to stay put for a minute. Jemma’s brow furrowed but she obeyed the request, waiting for whatever it was Skye went to do. She laid back across the bottom of the bed were Skye had deposited her, one leg bent at the knee, foot on the floor, the other leg stretched out to keep from putting her foot all the way down on the floor. She closed her eyes and was starting to drift off when Skye returned.

“Don’t pass out yet,” Skye spoke softly again. She knelt in front of Jemma and began untying her boots. She pulled the boots off with great care; the socks came off after them. Skye propped Jemma’s foot against her thigh and unwound the wrapping around it. It was a swollen, bruised mess but her toes and most of her foot (the parts not affected by the sprain) were still a pale peach color so the circulation hadn’t been obstructed. Jemma, by this point, had leaned up on her elbows and watched Skye with curiosity, brow furrowed, wondering what this was all about. She didn’t have long to contemplate it because Skye had picked her up to carry her again and Jemma was left to hook an arm around Skye’s shoulders for balance.

“Where are we goi-,”

Before Jemma finished the sentence, Skye had carried her past the second bedroom and into the bathroom. She carefully lowed Jemma down to the closed toilet as Jemma took in the filled bathtub that even had the telltale sights (and scents) of some relaxing bubble bath. She didn’t remember hearing the water running but she’d nearly been asleep in the bedroom. During dinner, Jemma had tried her best to get Skye talking. She hadn’t succeeded but Skye had apparently been listening closely as Jemma had made an offhand, not at all important comment about how much she would love a hot shower or bath. Jemma’s eyebrows arched up.

Skye dropped her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. “I just…um,” She cleared her throat. “I-I fixed the wiring on the water heater before we left. I realized it was working when I made dinner, y’know, and you said, you, um, that you-,”

Jemma reached for Skye’s hand again. She gave it a very firm squeeze and tugged to try and get Skye closer to her but, unfortunately, Skye was too tall for Jemma to drag her down into a hug when Jemma was injured and Skye was being an awkward/shy kind of stubborn. “Thank you, Skye,” Jemma said. Her eyes had gone a bit glassy at the sweet nature of the gesture, but Skye seemed to take it the wrong way and began to stammer her way through further explanation. Jemma let go of Skye’s hand, which made Skye look at her just in time to see that Jemma had crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom corner hems of both her undershirt and the thermal shirt she wore and tugged it up and over her head then let it fall to the floor before Skye could even blink.

Skye froze. Her mouth opened but she couldn’t seem to force any words out of her throat and instead stood there gaping, mouth hinging halfway open and closed as she tried to make herself stop staring at Jemma sitting there in her pants and bra.

Jemma hadn’t expected something so simple to make Skye freeze up, not after all the flirting she did and how closely they’d been living together since practically their first night after meeting. She couldn’t help the small, crooked grin that curled the corners of her lips. “Huh,” she said. Skye’s eyes flicked upward to Jemma’s and her cheeks flushed. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she observed and Skye’s cheeks went red.

“Help me up?” Jemma grinned as she held her hands out toward Skye.

Skye managed to close her gaping mouth. She licked her lips and swallowed as she held her hands out, grabbed Jemma’s and easily pulled her up to balance on her one good foot. Jemma kept her leg bent to keep from leaning on the bad one. Jemma balanced and held onto Skye’s shoulders for a moment. When she was sure she was steady enough, she wrapped her arms around Skye’s neck and shoulders and finally pulled her for a hug.

“Thank you, Skye,” Jemma said as she felt Skye’s hands on her back and then Skye’s chin on her shoulder. She held on for a long moment. She wanted to get Skye talking so she could try to make an assessment on where Skye’s head was at, but she didn’t want to force Skye into talking to her. So Jemma settled for expressing how grateful she was for this small wish granted. After a few lingering moments, Jemma spoke again. “I’m gonna need help with my pants,” she said. She didn’t acknowledge it, but with how close they were, she felt the sudden change in Skye’s pulse both from the beat of it in her neck and the sudden racing thumping in her chest.

“Right…” Skye exhaled a choppy breath masked with the tail end of a nervous chuckle. “Right, yeah, of course,” she nodded. Skye turned so she stood on the same side as Jemma’s bad foot and looped her arm around Jemma’s middle, securely balancing her as Jemma unhooked her belt, popped the button and pulled the zipper. Skye tightened her grip when Jemma wobbled as she pushed both her pants and underwear toward the ground. Jemma could actually feel the heat radiating off of Skye’s cheeks and closest ear. Skye stared purposefully at the bathtub and the wall on the other side of it.

“Could you, um,” Jemma tried to find some way to phrase what she needed without further embarrassing Skye further as she was clearly flushed. “My clasp,” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. With the way they were standing and her need for Skye’s help with balance, she could really reach back to unhook the clasp of her bra. She braced herself with a hand on Skye’s shoulder and bit her tongue to bite back the how of laughter that wanted to escape when Skye’s hand moved from her side to the bra clasp, with a single flick the claps was undone and her arm was firmly back around Jemma’s middle all in one swift motion that took less than two seconds in all. Under almost any other circumstances, she might have cracked at joke that Skye was pretty well practiced at that. Instead, Jemma shifted her weight and pulled the material free. Her own cheeks finally flushed at the vulnerability of the moment.

Skye picked her up again and stepped to the tub. She lowered Jemma enough to let her good foot dip into the water. “Good?” She asked of the temperature, still staring ahead at the wall in some attempt to protect Jemma’s privacy despite Jemma’s ease with peeling her way out of her clothes right in front of Skye, with Skye’s help. Without thinking about it, Jemma nodded. When she didn’t answer, Skye looked over at her and Jemma’s cheeks turned a few shades of pink.

“Sorry, erm,” She nodded. “Yes, it’s lovely,” She assured. Skye nodded and forced her eyes away again. She lowered Jemma in so her feet were down by the drain and the taps. She’d already set a rolled up towel in the spot Jemma would have to rest her head. Before Skye could retreat, Jemma moved. She kissed Skye’s cheek as she used the arm around Skye’s shoulders to pull her in for a hug. “Thank you, Skye,” she whispered against Skye’s ear.

Skye stiffened. She hadn’t been prepared for the hug and kiss. “It’s…it’s nothing, really, just, it was something small I could-,”

“No,” Jemma cut her off without letting her go. “Thank you for giving me a reason.”

Skye closed her eyes a moment but didn’t pull away. She didn’t trust her voice to be steady, though, so she just nodded against Jemma’s head and shoulder as they stuck out of the cloud of bubbles. She cleared her throat as Jemma loosened her grip and moved to stand up. She smoothed down her own shirt, which was wet now and felt slightly less awkward about making eye contact now that Jemma was covered by the purple tinted bubble bath bubbles. It was some lavender heavy scented stuff that had been under the sink, likely stocked there by one of her brothers based off of whatever she and her mother had had under their sink at home long ago. It was nice and seemed like it would be relaxing to soak in. “There, uh,” Skye made herself busy gathering the dirty clothes from the floor. “There’s shampoo and soap in the corner,” she nodded absently to the corner of the tub she meant. “I-If you need anything, just, ah, just call,” She motioned toward the door. “I’ll bring some clean clothes too,” She added as she headed out.

Jemma watched her go and let all her new observations sink in. She shifted lower in the tub and rested her head back on the towel pillow. Her muscles screamed at first, tingling as they weren’t used to hot water or being awarded something as nice as a hot soak since she hadn’t had on in…it felt like years but months would have been more accurate. She could have very easily fallen asleep in the hot water, but the idea of actually cleaning herself up with shampoo, soap and even conditioner? It was just too enticing to pass up for a nap. She unwound the bandaging around her arm. Long ago, she might have cared that her stitches might heal wonky and leave a scar if she wet them before they were properly healed but at the moment she just couldn’t care about the vanity of such a thing. She did leave the square gauze over top of it just to keep it covered but she knew Skye would bring her a first aid kit to redress it when she was done.

A few times, Jemma let some of the lukewarm water out and refilled it with hot water. Skye came in with two towels and some pajamas that she left on the counter next to the sink. She didn’t give Jemma a time limit for her bath, just let her be. Jemma didn’t know how long she was in there but eventually she pulled the plug and let the water drain out. She pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the tub after wringing the water out of her hair. She carefully turned to lift her feet out of the tub and to the floor. It was only a couple short feet from the shower to the sink counter, so Jemma hauled herself to her good foot and hopped over to sit on the toilet. She dried her hair with one of the towels until it was just a bit damp. She used the other down to dry off and then worked her way into the pajamas.

There were still terrible, heavy things on her mind, but Jemma couldn’t remember the last time she felt so refreshed. It was a temporary bandage, Jemma knew that but she was so grateful for it. A knock came to the bathroom door, which Skye had shut for her after dropping the clothes off. Jemma shifted her feet out of the way and pulled the door open.

“So?” Skye arched her right eyebrow slightly as she leaned in the doorframe. Her cheeks were no longer flushed.

Jemma smiled at her. “It was wonderful,” She said. Skye stood up and held her hands out to help Jemma up. “I can make it back to the room. It’s your turn…shower or bath, whichever you like best,” She shifted her weight and hopped, urging Skye inside the bathroom by her shoulder as she hopped out and balanced with the help of the loft bannister.  Skye opened her mouth to protest but Jemma cut her off. “Oh no you don’t, you smell.” She forced a small grin to let Skye know she was teasing. “I demand you wash off before bed, unless you want to launder the covers,” she arched her eyebrows and put her one free hand on her hip to let Skye know her protests would be met with resistance.

Skye put her hands up in surrender and Jemma promised to bring her some pajamas. She pulled the bathroom door shut and used the bannister and her hand on the wall to make her way to the bedroom to start digging through clean clothes, though it wasn’t like they had a lot of choices.

Skye watched the bathroom door and strained her ears, listening to make sure she didn’t hear Jemma fall. When she was satisfied that Jemma made it to the bedroom, she sighed and looked at the tub. Skye peeled her way out of her clothes. She leaned on the sink counter and stared at herself in the mirror for a long few minutes, until she heard Jemma shout, “I don’t hear any running water in there!” from the bedroom.

Skye opted for a shower. She unwrapped her gnarled hands and tossed it into the small trash bin. She also took the bandage off of her cheek that covered her stitches before she stepped into the stream of hot water. She let it scald her skin, ignored the pain in her hands and her cheek and ignored the ache of her throat from the chokeholds she’d sustain. The bruises that had formed over the last twenty four hours in their wake were a deep purple, almost black in some places. She ignored the agonizing scream of pain every muscle let out as she moved. She’d been ignoring them all day. They would be better with some sleep. That’s all she needed. She tried to force her mind away from thoughts of what happened to Trip or what she’d done in the wake of it. For a while there, they wandered to Jemma and she felt heat of a whole different variety in her core because of it. By the end of her shower, Skye had turned the taps to douse herself in cold water, needing the cool off. By the time she turned the water off, Jemma had managed to slip in and leave her some pajamas and towels.

Jemma was awake when Skye stepped into the room and tossed the dirty clothes and towels into the same hamper she’d dumped Jemma’s clothes earlier. She shut the bedroom door and propped the chair under it, having already set up the alarm on the stairs Jemma lay atop the covers with her foot elevated under some of the extra pillows. Rather than make her move, Skye wordlessly grabbed the covers off of the extra bed. She draped them over Jemma and the bed and climbed in on the other side.

Jemma curled her top half to move onto her side without disrupting her elevating ankle. “Better?” she asked. Her eyes roamed all over Skye’s face, taking in every subtle muscle twitch of her facial expressions while they talked. Skye nodded. She curled up on her side, her leg wound absently over Jemma’s uninjured leg and lazily wound her arm around Jemma’s middle. Jemma’s hand landed along Skye’s forearm on her stomach. She traced the whole way up to Skye’s shoulder, gingerly touching her neck very briefly, and settled her hand on the side of Skye’s face. Skye closed her eyes and felt her heart beginning to race again.

Without a word, without attempting to pry anything out of Skye, or to force conversation, Jemma scooted closer to Skye. She pressed a lingering kiss to Skye’s forehead and then pulled her close. Exhaustion claimed them before either had realized the other was asleep. 


	19. Arrhythmic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** perhaps some melodramatic feels? 
> 
> Forgive me for my typos, I'm clumsy and I'm also posting from mobile, whoops
> 
> Have at it! Thanks as always for reading and coming by to say hi or share your thoughts!  
> <3  
> :)
> 
> \--------

 Skye woke with the sun. An uneasy feeling had crept into her gut and filled her deep into her bones. She felt restless. It began with guilt. Thoughts of her family floated through her mind. She wondered what her mother would think of what she’d had to do to Trip – would she have understood that it was necessary the way she’d understood for herself after she’d been bit? Was it a pipedream to hope that maybe Grant was still alive somewhere? If he was, would he ever forgive Skye for killing Trip? Was Skye ever supposed to forgive herself for it?

Jemma stirred in her arms and Skye held her breath. She didn’t want to wake Jemma. They deserved to be able to steal a few extra hours of sleep, Jemma especially after what Skye put her through. There was another thing to amplify her guilt. Skye had to wake Jemma from two nightmares; the first had been about the cannibals and had Jemma twisting about in bed, panicking and the other one had left Jemma bawling so bad that Skye never even got a chance to ask what it was about. It was this second one that bothered Skye the most. Was it possible that Jemma’s nightmare was about her? Skye didn’t want to think this was this case and she figured if it was then Jemma wouldn’t have found much comfort in Skye holding onto her and rocking her back to sleep. If it wasn’t about what happened with the cannibals and it still made Jemma so inconsolably upset that she eventually cried herself back into exhausted sleep…Skye shuddered to think of the possibilities and unconsciously wound her arms tighter around Jemma.

Jemma nuzzled her face further into Skye’s collar. She inhaled a deep breath and let out a sigh but didn’t seem to wake. Skye closed her eyes and tried to force her mind to shut off. Maybe she could get another hour or two of rest. At the same time, despite the stiffness in her joints and the various throbbing aches throughout her body, Skye loathed the idea of wasting daylight. They were behind the eight ball now. There were traps to set. There were alarms to improve, warnings for others to keep away, to protect them. Skye needed to get up, get out and do those things. She needed to be able to physically do something with her hands, to keep her mind occupied on what she _could_ fix, rather than what she’d destroyed. Skye opened her eyes and watched the changing colors of the sunrise as they poked through the blinds and spilled into the room.

“Your heartbeat’s arrhythmic.”

Skye felt the very soft flutter of Jemma’s lips against the exposed patch of her collarbone as she spoke without moving from where she was pressed into Skye’s embrace. Skye closed her eyes, powerless to fight off the small tremor that rolled down her spine at the feeling of the accidental ghost light kisses as warm bursts of air mingled with them and caused a patch of gooseflesh along her clavicle in their wake.

Jemma felt the way Skye shook and shifted to turn her head further. She pressed her ear tight against Skye’s chest. Concern filled her voice when she spoke, “Do you feel faint?” She sounded much more awake as she asked the question. Skye opened her mouth to answer but, in her still only half-awake state, Jemma reflexively reached for Skye’s shoulder and then in the next moment, her index and ring finger were pressing into the deeply bruised flesh of the side of Skye’s neck. Her intention was to check the difference between Skye’s pulse and the heartbeats beneath her ear on Skye’s chest but the moment Jemma’s fingers pushed into the deep purple flesh, Skye inhaled a sharp hiss of pain and involuntarily recoiled back from the touch.

The break of closeness between them jolted Jemma. She quickly snatched her hand away and toward her chest and lifted her head to look at Skye. “Sorry!” She cringed. “I’m sorry! I forgot – are you alright?” Even as Skye recovered from the shock of pain, Jemma still reached, more gingerly, for her chin and jaw to angle Skye’s head to get a better look in the morning light at the terrible bruising left behind on Skye’s neck. Her browed creased as the vision of the cannibal Leader sitting atop Skye’s chest, choking the life out of her flash across her mind’s eye.

“Mornin’,” Skye’s voice came out in a harsh rasp. Though it had been coarse sounding the night before, now that Skye had managed some rest, the inflammation had kicked into full gear. She licked her lips and swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

Jemma grimaced. She let go of Skye’s face and motioned toward her neck. “Can I…?” She nodded and motioned again and Skye knew she wanted to examine her neck in more detail, with possible prodding. Skye frowned but nodded. “I’ll be as gentle as possible,” she promised. Her eyes were on the deep hue of purple shaped like gargantuan fingers around Skye’s neck from more than one hand wrapped around it. She moved her fingers carefully along the front curve of Skye’s neck.

Skye squeezed her eyes shut and set her jaw tight to keep from flinching away from the touch. Jemma felt the tight swallow Skye attempted as it struggled against the flare of pain it caused. Jemma wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything possibly broken in there. Likely if there was, it would have made itself known well before now but she didn’t think using an abundance of caution when they were provided the time for it was a bad thing. She let go of Skye’s neck and let her fingers come to rest on Skye’s collarbones. Jemma’s eyes shifted to catch Skye’s.

“Are you alright?” Jemma asked the question very quietly. She was afraid of the answer but at the same time she needed to know it. That wasn’t entirely true. She knew the answer. The answer was ‘no.’ Skye nodded her head. Jemma frowned. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?” Jemma asked.

Skye dropped her eyes to Jemma’s cheekbones to avoid full eye contact. “Y’should get more sleep,” she murmured hoarsely.

She began to shift like she was going to sit up but Jemma reached up and caught old of the front of her shirt with one hand and the outside of her bicep with the other and forced Skye back down to the mattress with her. “So should you,” she insisted. Skye exhaled a sigh and Jemma shifted. Their legs wound together as Jemma loosened her grip on Skye’s arm and moved to run it up and down the top half of Skye’s arm in slow, gentle strokes.

“Your ankle,” Skye turned her head and looked down at the bed, worried that the way their legs were twisted together would hurt Jemma’s sprained ankle.

“It’s sore but it’s alright,” Jemma assured her. With her concern addressed, Skye became more acutely aware of the way they were twisted together, hips pressed almost flush, legs wound, one between the other, their stomach met each time one of them took in a breath. Their bodies angled slightly farther apart the higher up their torsos they went and the two were left lying face to face, their noses a small handful of millimeters apart. Jemma’s eyes bore into Skye’s, searching the deep brown depths as if she were trying to scour Skye’s soul until it gave up its demons to her freely.

The urge was there. Skye wanted to let all of it out – her disgust with herself for what she’d done, for having enjoyed it after what they’d done to her brother, for having put Jemma in such a dangerous position without a second thought to it. She wanted to bury her face in Jemma’s neck and cry for her lost mother and brother, to beg for forgiveness even though Jemma had already absolved her from her sins the day before. She wanted to scream, to break something or punch her fist through a wall because even after everything she’d done in the name of avenging her brother’s death, it wasn’t enough and she still felt the rage bubbling and roiling just beneath the surface. Skye wanted to lock herself away from Jemma. She didn’t want Jemma to see that the vengeful warrior was still there and still so ready to settle up the unpaid tally of the weight of her brother’s worth on the scale. Between the small grip she had on reality, the tight ball of heat winding in her belly resulting from her consciousness of their current closeness and the tug inside her that wanted her to release her burdens before they exploded from her, Skye felt the pressure in her chest as Jemma gazed at her, expectant, though silent.

“I’ll go,” she very carefully cleared her throat. “Make breakfast,” she murmured.

“Skye,” Jemma’s hand moved from Skye’s arm to the side of her face. She thought back to last week, on the rooftop on that small main street stretch, of how Skye had bristled at the unwarranted assumption that Jemma might think she was barbaric for her need to take out whatever Zombies lingered around so other people, people with less skills than Skye, wouldn’t happen upon them unawares. She let the thoughts roll around her mind about the gentle way Skye approached her in the woods by the creek to warn her not to drink from the tainted stream, about the way she freely shared her food, her water, her supplies even though they were the only possessions of any kind she had in what was left of the world, of the way she’d offered up a small wrapped jolly rancher as ‘dessert’ after their meal.

There was a kindness in Skye unlike any Jemma had seen in other people, even before the outbreak occurred. She had a protective streak miles long and she was _fiercely_ protective when it came down to it. There was a darkness lingering inside her, Jemma had her own and could recognize the signs of it. Hers was buried ore deeply. Skye’s was fresh. The new world around them had scarred her before, sure, but this new wound was too much to bear and Jemma feared losing Skye to it. Skye was the one that pulled Jemma together and was the one still trying to hold her in one piece even as she fell apart herself. Jemma had selfishly drawn strength from Skye and she knew the only thing to do was to reciprocate what had been given to her. So her own mental scars were pushed aside in this moment for the sole purpose of finding a proper way to reach the woman lying right in front of her.

Skye watched Jemma. Her brow creased and she dropped her eyes to Jemma’s chin, uncomfortable under Jemma’s probing gaze. What was it that Jemma was looking for? If she found it, would it make her leave? Skye knew she’d gone much too far in her revenge quest. Jemma hadn’t fled yet, but that could just be because she was only partially mobile with her injured foot. Skye’s pulse began to chug like a freight train. What had she done? Could she really keep the angry beast she’d let free the other day caged again? Is that what Jemma was searching for – some clue that Skye wasn’t going to snap and murder her? Skye shifted uneasily, afraid to both move closer to Jemma and to move away from her. She felt her eyes burned and mentally cursed herself.

“People shouldn’t have to make their way in this world alone,” Jemma’s voice was quiet, calm and gentle, the way Skye’s had been when she said these same words to Jemma. She paused, waited. Skye’s head snapped up and Jemma’s eyes caught and locked hers. “That’s not a way to survive. That’s a way to slowly wither and give up. I don’t want that to happen to either of us, so…”

Skye’s pulse raced. She recognized these words. She understood the gesture Jemma was making. Skye was grateful for the gesture in light of…well, everything. At the same time, Skye didn’t feel like she deserved it after what she’d done. The two overwhelming and dueling sets of emotions played tug of war on her and it wasn’t long before her breathing became shallow and erratic. She was sure the emotions would spill over on her if she didn’t get out of there. Jemma watched her with careful regard. She studied the muscle flinches on Skye’s face and the shifts of emotion in her eyes and Jemma put her own patience to the test in restraining from pulling Skye into a tight embrace and very sternly informing her that everything might not be alright right now but it was _going_ to be alright and that they were in this thing together; Just like Skye had told and shown her in those first few days after they met.

“I need to, I’ll go, um…” Skye cleared her throat to try and steady her voice. She hesitated, the words ‘thank you,’ and ‘I don’t deserve this,’ stuck just on the tip of her tongue. Neither of them escaped her vocal cords, where they’d initially tangled. “Make us b-breakfast…” Skye managed to blurt the words out and retreated from the bed, trying her best not to jostle Jemma’s ankle in her haste to retreat. Jemma frowned but let her go. She watched as Skye tugged on her shoes, grabbed her knife, unblocked the chair from the door and then was out the door and down the stairs in mere seconds.

\--

After Skye’s cagey exit from bed, Jemma gave her some space. Skye changed into fresh clothes, grabbed the appropriate gear she needed and went out to set snares and to add new noisemaker alarms around a wider perimeter of the cabin. Jemma, meanwhile, did what she could in the greenhouse while slowly hobbling about with her crutch to keep pressure off her sprain. Jemma busied herself with anything she could in the greenhouse and at the cabin to keep her mind busy while worrying over Skye until whatever time she would return. She gathered all the produce from the greenhouse that was ripe for the picking. Once she managed to lug the small haul into the house, she set about organizing it. The herbs she set on a baking sheet and put into the oven to let them dry. Then she found a legal pad and a pen and set to work writing up an extremely detailed inventory list of every single item they had – everything in the pantry, the cupboards, the refrigerator, the bathroom, the two or three storage closets, both bedrooms, the living room. Everything. Jemma spent the day discovering every little thing she could and making note of it.

In the early afternoon, she set up the crock pot with a mixture of vegetables, some of their smoked meats, spices and a couple of cans of broth from the pantry. She turned it to high so it would cook in a shorter amount of time, hoping Skye would be back soon and they could talk over dinner. After she set up the crock pot, she set herself up at the table and set about rewriting her inventory lists so they were legible and precise.

The sun was starting to set by the time Skye returned. Jemma spotted her through one of the kitchen windows when she hopped to the counter to stir the crock pot. Skye had a haul of small animals, captured by snares, plus a bird of some kind she’d likely shot with the bow and arrow. Jemma replaced the lid on the crock pot and watched Skye for a few moments as Skye set about butchering and cleaning the animals. When they were clean and Skye had also washed them using a bucket filled from the greenhouse rainwater collection barrel, Skye set them up in the smokehouse she’d already put a fire into to get it going.

Jemma made her way back to the dinner table and eased herself into a seat. She busied herself with a slice of apple from one she had cored not too long before she’d gone to stir the crock pot. Her inventory lists were piled neatly on the table in front of her.

Skye let herself in the through the back door. She wiped her boots on the mat outside the door and stepped inside. She turned and was about to call out to let Jemma know it was just her coming in but spotted Jemma at the table and settled on a quick. “Hey,” instead. She shut and locked the door behind her, pulled the shade on it and then ducked her head went to the sink to wash her dirty hands off.

“Hi,” Jemma watched Skye’s back for a few moments as Skye stood at the sink. “How’d it go out there?” She asked, hoping this was an allowable question that wouldn’t make Skye flighty.

Skye shrugged. “Not too bad. Got a pheasant, a rabbit, two chipmunks and a squirrel,” she said. “They’re in the smokehouse.” She turned the water off, shook out her hands and grabbed a kitchen towel to dry her hands off. Turning around, Skye leaned back against the counter and sent her gaze toward Jemma’s injured foot, which was propped up on one of the chairs next to Jemma. “How’s your foot?” Skye nodded to it.

“It’s not as bad as before,” Jemma assured her. “I kept my weight off of it still, just to be safe.” She said. She pushed the list further across the table and smiled. “I made us a full inventory of all the supplies I could find.” Jemma felt this was an extremely bountiful use of her time. She knew Skye would approve because Skye always kept close eye for the inventory in their packs when they were traveling.

Skye dropped her eyes to the papers and offered a small smile. It was an offering though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She moved to sit down in the empty chair on Jemma’s other side and reached for the lists. “Smells like you’re doing some cooking too,” She commented, having already spotted the crock pot when she’d washed her hands.

Jemma made a face and let out half of a chuckle. “Don’t get too excited. I’ve never been a very good cook but my understanding is that crock pots are capable of turning anything into soup and or stew.” She smiled.

Skye couldn’t help the snort of laughter that drew out of her, which made Jemma’s smile stretch further across her lips. She looked over the lists and realized Jemma went through the whole house and tried not to frown. “You sure you were resting your foot? This looks like a lot of work,” She said.

Jemma smirked. “It wasn’t that much work and I had my masterfully crafted crutch to help me,” She pushed her plate of apple slices toward Skye to offer her some with a raised eyebrow. Skye took a slice and tossed it into her mouth as she sat back in her chair and began to chew. Jemma touched Skye’s forearm and then traced her way to Skye’s empty hand and entwined their hands. Skye tensed but kept a firm grip on Jemma’s hand, waiting for the questions without speaking since she was chewing. She kept her eyes on the papers on the table in front of her. Jemma waited in silence until she felt Skye starting to relax a bit before she asked “Are you hungry?”

Skye’s shoulders released as she exhaled the breath she held for the question. It wasn’t the one she’d expected and because of her delay in answering, her stomach answered for her. Jemma chuckled. She squeezed Skye’s hand and let it go. She grabbed her crutch and started to prepare to get up, “I’ll get us some bowls-,”

“No, no!” Skye quickly hopped up and then regretted it immediately as her muscles still ached from everything. “I’ve got it,” She said. She walked around behind Jemma, dropped a hand to squeeze her shoulder on her way by. “You rest.” Skye walked to the cupboard, grabbed a couple of bowls and then grabbed a ladle. She scooped them out two bowls of the stew then set the crock pot down to low and covered it again before she brought the bowls back to the table with a couple of spoons. They ate in relative silence outside of commenting on how well it turned out and how the leftovers would be good for breakfast on top of some of the rice they had in the pantry.

After dinner, they moved to the living room and Skye fussed over Jemma, propped up her foot on the coffee table with some pillows. The temperatures were getting colder at night so Skye grabbed some extra firewood after she checked on the meat in the smokehouse. She started a fire going in the living room fireplace. Eventually, Jemma managed to get her sitting down on the couch with her. It took some coaxing and resting together in silence for a while, but Jemma managed to set them up so Skye was lying down, along the couch, her boots off and legs curled and her head resting in Jemma’s lap. Jemma alternated between running her hand along Skye’s back and arm and combing her fingers through Skye’s hair.

Jemma wanted to talk. She _needed_ to talk about what happened, needed to purge it from her system and needed to convince Skye that they could move on from this. She thought Skye needed to purge herself of all the things she was carrying around too, though Skye was obviously extremely reluctant.

“Skye?” Jemma asked after they’d been relaxing for at least an hour.

“Hmm?” Skye murmured. Jemma’s gentle touches and general proximity had been slowly lulling her into sleep.

“I want…No,” she cleared her throat but kept her tone quiet and gentle, trying her best to sound reassuring. “I need to, erm, to be able to talk to you, about…about the things that happened.” She felt Skye’s muscles seized and tense though Skye didn’t move from her spot. Jemma gently squeezed her arm. “I’m not going to force you to open up to me,” she said. “I just…I don’t know what you’re thinking or, or what you’re feeling and…” Jemma frowned as she watched Skye’s facial muscles contort as Skye stared at the fire.

Jemma decided she needed to make one more gesture. She leaned over and kissed the side of Skye’s head. “I just need you to know that you’re not alone – you don’t have to handle this on your own. We’re…we’re both here for each other. I promise, Skye, I’m right here for you, whenever you need me for whatever you need.”

Skye’s hand had been resting along Jemma’s knee already but after Jemma’s speech, she reached up and gripped Jemma’s hand on her shoulder. Her grip squeezed tight as tears swelled and flowed from Skye’s eyes. She closed her eyes tight and Jemma turned her hand to wrap it around Skye’s and leaned over to kiss the side of her head again. She murmured a few reassurances in Skye’s ear that it was okay, that Skye didn’t have to talk about anything she didn’t want to.

When the fire faded, they unwound themselves. Skye doused the fire and closed off the fireplace. She helped Jemma upstairs and they changed and crawled into bed silently. Jemma held tightly onto Skye, whispered reassurances to her. Skye sniffled a time or two but didn’t pull away from her embrace. They fell asleep curled tightly together.

\--

The next three days followed similar patterns. Skye disappeared shortly after breakfast to venture into the woods, checking on the alarms and the traps, resetting the traps, foraging for food while hunting. Jemma tried to find ways to busy herself while Skye was away since Skye was adamant that Jemma needed to rest and let her ankle heal. When she exhausted chores that she could do while still using her crutch, Jemma became stir crazy. She didn’t have anything to occupy her mind, which left her to let the visions of everything they discovered at the cannibal cabin play through her mind like a film on repeat while worrying about Skye’s increasing withdraw into herself. Jemma tried her best to stay patient but her own nerves were frayed and there was only so much she could handle before her own emotions bubbled over.

Midway through dinner on their fifth night home from Cannibal Cabin, Jemma slammed her fork down on the table. “I can’t take it anymore!” she snapped.

Skye blinked, her fork poised in the air halfway between her plate and her open mouth. She glanced at Jemma without turning her head and arched her eyebrows.

“Skye, we can’t keep doing this!” Jemma snapped again. Skye put her fork down and say up straight in her chair. Her brow furrowed. “ _Speak_ to me! I can’t even remember the last time I heard your _voice_!” She shouted though she knew it was three and a half days. Skye frowned. She dropped her eyes and fidgeted with a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve. “I get it, okay?” Jemma’s voice rose with her fear and anxiety. “I get it! It’s my fault! I slowed you down.” Her eyes filled with tears to the point that all she could make out in her clouded vision was the blurred color of Skye’s face. “If you hadn’t stopped to help me and I hadn’t slowed you down, you would have been here and Trip wouldn’t have left to look for you. He’d be here! He’d be safe! He’d be _alive_!” Her voice was choked with emotion as she tears spilled down her cheeks.

Jemma couldn’t see through her blurred vision that Skye’s face was filled with sudden alarm at her outbursts. She opened her mouth but only managed to get out a startled, “Jem-,” before Jemma cut her off.

“I’m sorry!” She cried. “I’m sorry it happened! I’m sorry you lost him because of me,” She sniffled. “I’m sorry for, for all the, the terrible things you’ve had to do because of me – I know I deserve the cold shoulder, I know I do but I…I can’t…” her sobs cut right through her words by that point and she hunched over, shoulders bobbing as she cried.

“Jemma-,”

“I’m sorry, Skye,” Jemma bawled. She turned toward Skye and started to reach for her but stopped as if she thought the touch might actually hurt Skye. “I don’t know how to m-make it r-right, I don’t – you have to t-tell me what to do. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-,”

Skye pulled Jemma’s hair over to her and wrapped Jemma up tightly into her embrace. Jemma buried her face into Skye’s shoulder before she could stop herself and Skye cradled the back of her head with her hand. She stroked Jemma’s back and didn’t let her break free. “Jemma,” Skye said her name as Jemma gripped tight fistfuls of the back of Skye’s shirt. Skye didn’t know how to talk about it. She tried to bury it all in the back of her mind, to swallow it down until it passed. “I…” Her voice was suddenly thick with emotion and before she could stop the floodgates they’d open. They sat there, a jumbled mess wound around each other, bawling together, trying to talk in garbled sentences.

“This wasn’t your fault-,”

“Yes it was – we both know it-,”

“ _No_! You didn’t do…do those t-things to my b-brother, Jem.”

“But if you hadn’t-,”

“He made the c-choice to leave.”

“T-then why are you…why are you punishing me?”

“I’m not  - I c-can’t…I don’t know how I can-,”

“ _Talk_ to me,” Jemma’s hands were on Skye’s wet cheeks. She forced herself back to lock their eyes. “ _Tell me_ …” she pled.

Skye hesitated, her mouth open but the words just wouldn’t come out. Her hands curled around Jemma’s arms, at the back of her elbows. She shook her head and tried to look away from Jemma’s intense gaze, even though both of their blurred vision. “I-I…I couldn’t c-control it. It happened and I couldn’t control it,” The words suddenly came in rushed waves that Skye couldn’t stop. “I didn’t…I didn’t care what happened to me. I just, I just….I just wanted them to suffer,” she sniffled. “I wanted them to feel everything they put him through. I wanted…I wanted to be the one that made them suffer. I wanted to see it, Jem…I w-wanted to see the panic in their faces when their lives were slowly draining away, the pain – I wanted them to feel every pain possible and I…” she shook her head against the side of Jemma’s head. “I left you by yourself, I left you and they could’ve taken you, they could have – he almost had you and I had just…left you there – I’m sorry, Jem, I…I don’t know how to…I can’t shut it out, what happened and I can’t…” She clenched her eyes shut and gripped fiercely onto Jemma. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” She murmured it over and over again.

It took hours and multiple venue changes to hash it all out between them. Jemma about her inability to help (physically and mentally), about her continued assumption of fault for Trip’s death and Skye about the snap her in brain and how she lost all sense of control, how she worried it would happen again with Jemma and how she was determined not to hurt Jemma so she’d shut herself off. They moved from the kitchen into the living room and eventually up to the bedroom. Uncountable tears passed between them. Promises were made, not to shut each other out, to stop shouldering every burden each on their own back, never again to let the other get to the breaking point without giving each other a mental check and to trust each other to carry their share of the weight every time. It was nearly dawn before their bodies gave out in overwhelming exhaustion. When the sun came up, they stayed curled together in bed as if it was an unspoken proclamation of their combined willpower; _This is our world now and we’ll build it together however we see fit...but first we’re going to take this nap to reset our emotions._

 

 


	20. Any Further

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been trying to write this chapter for months after having written myself into a terrible plot hole because of deviating from my originl outline through the last 2 or so chapters before it. This is actually the 5th version of this chapter that I wrote because I kept having to completely scrap them. 
> 
> I aplogize for the lengthy delay in getting this chapter to you and now that I've just about patched the gap left by the loophole, hopefully it won't take so long to get the next chapter to you! 
> 
> Forgive me for my typos, I only skimmed for errors because I was afraid I'd try to scrap it again if I went for too much of a detailed editing run. If you note anything glaring in the comments I'll do my best to come back and edit them out! 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading and for all the kudos, comments and love you've passee my way! 
> 
> <3 <3
> 
> _________________

Days passed in a slow haze. Skye and Jemma fell into what felt like an odd routine. They woke early in the morning and shared breakfast before parting ways. Skye made a circuit of the outlying woods, checking and resetting her traps and snares and making sure to clear any of the undead ghouls from any of the traps tripped in the night. Jemma worked in the greenhouse. More than just harvesting whatever could be picked; Jemma began planting new trays of various vegetables to increase their yield. Anything that could be harvested, dried, smoked or canned would be picked and sorted and preserved in their applicable medium. The women met up again in the afternoon for lunch. Afterward, Skye worked on gathering new wood to add to their stocks and Jemma worked on learning how to split the larger logs now and then.

Some days while they still had light, Skye and Jemma worked on practicing with the bow and with throwing their knives. At Jemma’s request, Skye began to teach Jemma how to throw a proper punch. Once she had that down, they moved on to other kinds of fighting, practicing the same motions over and over as Jemma tried to commit the movements to muscle memory reflex. Skye also spent time in the evenings after they’d finished eating teaching Jemma how to make different animals noises to signify different messages under the idea that it would be easier to communicate when they were outside the cabin with each other while avoiding the use of loud human language, just in case.

Jemma taught Skye ways to improve the greenhouse to maximize efficiency. Some nights they both poured over maps of the local area, marking those places they’d already explored or had been through in any way, making notations of what had occurred there. They didn’t make any attempts to explore or make any kind of extra supply search until Jemma’s ankle healed because Jemma insisted that she didn’t want Skye going alone. Some days they roamed the surrounding woods around the cabin for different fruit bearing trees, bushes or plants that Ward had propagated outside the limited space of the greenhouse. There were many patches of figs, some of them even around different corners of the small clearing the cabin was in, but spread out around the area too. They were good plants and once they were rooted, required little fussing. Jemma netted them much more in the way of useful plants than Skye would have known to pull with the intention of utilizing them for medicinal purposes.

The two of them worked together in the kitchen, preserving foods, drying out plants and herbs, working specific mixtures of plants into whatever forms Jemma could concoct for future potential use for various ailments, drying or smoking whatever meats they could. They shared cooking duties though each of them was fairly basic with their skills. There were some nights where Jemma demanded that they do nothing ‘work’ related. She called them mental health nights and as their schedule became a fairly set routine, Jemma began to work them into the schedule on a regular basis.

 Those were the nights that they would sit in the living room with a fire going. Sometimes they read in silence, curled up next to each other along the couch with some part of them touching the other, be it an arm or leg resting here or there or occasionally one of them lying with their head in the other’s lap while the other absently combed fingers through their hair. Sometimes they spent the night playing cards or listening to old records in the house once Skye wired up the record player to the generator. Sometimes they sat and drank tea or cocoa that they sparingly rationed and talked.

Three weeks had passed since the incident with the cannibals. Both Skye and Jemma were still having occasional nightmares in the fallout of it. Those late nights were spent quietly reassuring each other, one of them coaxing the other back into sleep. It was odd to have a routine, a sense of normalcy considering the fact that they were living in a world that existed beyond the collapse of society, at least on this continent. Who knew how far the spread went. They had no real way of knowing. Despite the minor bit of normalcy, there was always an edge of fear that hung around in the back of their minds. At any moment, everything could fall apart. So they tried to hang onto whatever they could as best they could until that moment, the break in normalcy, came to tear their careful construct down.

One particular evening, while they were sitting at the kitchen table eating their dinner, Jemma noticed Skye had been unusually quiet throughout the day. Skye was slow to actually eat her food, which was unusual since she typically had a pretty fair appetite because of the physical demand of their everyday lives. Over the last couple of days, in fact, Skye had been zoning out and tensing up. Thought she was careful in how she phrased it, Jemma decided she needed to speak up and check in with Skye.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asked.

Skye blinked, startled from her thoughts. “Hm?” She turned her gaze from where she’d been staring at the table, to Jemma’s face. She’d missed that question completely. “I’m sorry, what was that, Jem?”

Jemma’s right eyebrow made a very small upward jut. She offered Skye a small, cautious smile. “I was just wondering if you’re feeling alright,” She said. “You’ve barely touched your food. It’s been a long day. I would have thought you’d be famished by dinner.”

“Oh,” Skye glanced down at her plate. Her stomach made a quiet, angry grumble at her for slacking off. “Yeah,” she nodded once. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she assured.

Jemma tried to force herself not to frown. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jem, honest-,”

“Come on, Skye. We’ve been over this. It’s obvious that something is bothering you.”

“It’s nothing-,”

“Why don’t you share it and we’ll sort it out together?” Jemma’s eyebrows both arched this time as she made the suggestion. Skye hesitated and Jemma reached across the able and put a gentle hand on Skye’s forearm. “Whatever it is, you can tell me and we can figure it out,” She promised.

Skye frowned. Her eyes landed n Jemma’s hand on her arm. She still felt occasionally like she didn’t deserve for Jemma to be so kind, so concerned over her, to take such care of her after what she’d done. She tried her best to stifle these feelings of inadequacy, to accept it when Jemma soothed her into believing that things were alright between them, to keep moving forward from what’d happened. There were some underlying fears Skye couldn’t expunge. For one, staying in any one place for too long was dangerous. Sure they set up as secure a perimeter as they could and Skye always had their bags packed and ready to grab and run in a pinch if needed but even so, it wasn’t safe to stay put and become complacent. For two…Skye didn’t know what happened to Grant.

Skye cleared her throat. She set her fork down and moved her hands to her lap, fidgeting, folding them together, and picking at her cuticles. “I don’t…” She wasn’t sure how to word it. “I don’t want to become complacent here,” She said.

Jemma’s brow furrowed. She hardly felt complacent at all. Other than their mental health nights, they worked pretty steadily from sunup to sundown. She had no problem pulling her weight, but she didn’t quite understand Skye’s comment. “What do you mean?”

Skye shifted in her spot. “This…routine we have, this place…” She glanced around and motioned in the air to signify the cabin. “Being here, in this cabin, it feels safe,” She said. Jemma couldn’t help it when that thought made her smile. Her smile fell, though, when she saw the grave look on Skye’s face. “It’s a false sense of security, Jem,” Skye shook her head. “We’re not safe. Nowhere is safe. Whatever the cause of it, no matter what we do, at some point, sometime, something’s going to happen and it’s all gonna be over…”

“Skye-,”

“No,” Skye shook her head. “I know you want to talk me out of thinking like that, but that’s how I stayed alive,” she said. “My family’s gone. All of them are just…gone and there was nothing I could do.” Skye paused and cleared her throat when her voice broke. She let her eyes meet Jemma’s finally. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can handle sitting around waiting for something to happen to take you away from me, too,” She sniffled before she could stop herself and dropped her eyes, ashamed of her emotional display.

“Oh, Skye,” Jemma moved, pulled her chair over next to Skye’s then leaned over to pull Skye into a hug.  She felt Skye’s hesitation before finally moving her arms around Jemma. “You… _we_ can’t live like that, Skye,” Jemma said gently. “We both know things can change at any moment, but we can’t live in constant fear. All we can do is work with the moments we have right now.”

Skye closed her eyes and turned her head into Jemma’s shoulder for a long moment, inhaled her scent and tried to take comfort in Jemma’s embrace rather than worry about when Jemma might be torn away from her in some catastrophic way. Her grip on Jemma tightened.

“You don’t know Grant’s gone,” Jemma reminded her when she spoke again. Skye stiffened. “Anything could have happened to stop him from getting here. He might still be on his way. He could still be out there,” she reasoned.

Skye sniffled and pulled back. She swiped quickly at her eyes and sniffled. “No,” she shook her head once or twice quickly. “No, if he was alright, he wouldn’t have stopped until he got here. He would have found us if he was a-,” she choked on the word and shook her head.

Jemma took Skye’s face in her hands. Skye’s watery eyes met Jemma’s. Jemma was used to Skye putting on a brave front so she was startled to see the absolute fear welled deep within her dark eyes. “Seeing is believing, right? You haven’t seen his body so; he’s alive until you have proof otherwise.” If that was what it took to make it through the day, Jemma would make the assertion every day from here on out. Skye sniffled and nodded against Jemma’s shoulder. After a few long moments, they broke apart and set about finishing their meals.

Hours later, curled up in their bed, locked in the bedroom with the chair blocking the door, a small fire heating the room in the fireplace in the corner, neither of them could sleep. Jemma was on her left side with Skye tucked with her back to Jemma’s chest. Jemma’s arms were wrapped firmly around Skye, their legs a twisted mess beneath the covers. Jemma could have fallen asleep but she was so worried about Skye at the moment that she stayed awake, listening to Skye’s breaths, waiting for them to even out to signify that she fell asleep. It was a silent battle, a stalemate really as neither one of them seemed to be willing to give in.

“Skye?” Jemma spoke her name softly to acknowledge that they were both awake.

“Hmm?” Skye murmured without moving in her spot leaning back against Jemma.

“Do you really think it’s not safe for us to stay here?” Jemma asked. Before Skye could respond, Jemma added, “Or is it because your brother hasn’t found his way here?” She tried to word it and say it as gently as she could, not wanting to upset Skye but really wanting to get everything out in the open so neither of them had to ignore it or pretend it wasn’t affecting them. Skye tensed in her arms but didn’t move to try and pull away from her. Jemma waited, silent and trying to be as patient as possible. Her hand traced along one of Skye’s arms, hoping to create some kind form of soothing consolation for her reminder that Grant hadn’t made his way to the safe house they were supposed to meet.

“Both,” Skye finally whispered to the dark when she did answer. Jemma’s arms curled tighter around her and Skye squeezed the hand she was holding firmly. Skye wanted to try and explain, but she wasn’t sure she could do so without her voice cracking. Jemma thought she understood it from their conversation earlier. The longer they stayed here without Grant showing up, the more likely it was that Grant was probably dead and Skye would never know. If they left the cabin and moved on, Skye might be able to convince herself of the idea of not believing Grant was dead until she saw his body.

Jemma inhaled a slow breath through her nose. The idea of leaving this safe place after they had set up a routine and settled into comfort, of trading that for uncertainty and any manner of possible death, or worse, was a terrifying prospect to her. Skye had protected Jemma, kept her safe when she had no way of knowing if doing so would, in turn, get her killed. Jemma didn’t just feel like she owed Skye, she _knew_ that she owed her. “We’ll start working on a plan in the morning,” She whispered before she kissed the back of Skye’s head. Skye’s only response was to squeeze Jemma’s hand tightly and sniffle softly. Jemma wrapped her arms tight Skye and pulled her back tight against her chest. Rocking them slightly, Jemma murmured reassurances and did her best to coax Skye into sleep. She waited until Skye’s muscles relaxed and her breaths fell into even inhales and exhales before she finally let herself drift off to sleep.

\--

As promised, they started working on a plan in the morning. It would take time to gather the necessary supplies to feel safe enough venturing out for good. They spent time pouring over the maps of the area Skye had, which had been previously marked by Grant to make notations on what was in the area. They worked on harvesting and drying everything edible they could. With what they had left of the vacuum seal bags, they worked on bagging up and storing their dried meats to keep them preserved best as possible. They did their best to dehydrate food rather than can it since dehydrating would conserve space and take up less weight in their bags. They made countless lists. The inventoried over and over and over again. They hunted. They foraged. They talked. The planning kept Skye as distracted as possible about Grant’s absence. Jemma did hope that maybe in the timespan of their planning, Skye might reconsider since this place was, as far as she considered, as safe as any other. It was already fortified with traps and alarms. It had become a home of sorts. But she understood Skye’s emotional standpoint, so she kept them moving and progressing with it.

Halfway into their second week of planning, they set a deadline of another two weeks out that they would be finished with packing their provisions and officially setting out. Jemma wasn’t shy about sharing her apprehension about the plan. Skye wasn’t too stubborn to admit her own. It became easier to confess their fears, anxieties, emotions and general thoughts with each other with each passing day. There were still very specific feelings that neither of them brought up despite their general closeness, their penchant for reaching out for contact with the other when one of them needed some form of consolation and their sleeping arrangements. They were comfortable with each other. There was no need to chance disrupting their compatibility just yet, not when there were other very important things to handle on their To Do list.

Having fallen into a steady routine and with their deadline in mind, the days moved more with a purpose. They weren’t reckless or complacent about their actions but there was an ease of assumption that fell over them. Four days into their two week deadline, Skye and Jemma went out to forage and check the traps together. While they were out, they picked up some deer tracks. Jemma silently followed Skye as she followed the tracks, keeping an eye and ear out for anything surrounding them. Skye had just caught sight of the deer, bending over to eat and crouched down when something caught Jemma’s attention, movement from the corner of her eye.

“Skye…” Jemma whispered it.

“One sec,” Skye’s voice was barely above a whisper. She inhaled and lined up her shot.

“ _Skye_ ,” Jemma hissed her name out urgently, though her volume dropped below the level of whisper as she bumped Skye’s shoulder.

As Skye turned to look over her shoulder, she spotted what Jemma was calling to her attention. Just thirty yards behind them, in the direction they had just come from – the direction where their cabin lay – were dozens and dozens of shuffling bodies. The first few hadn’t made any loud shuffling noises but as the pack of them grew, the rustling in the leaves became louder. They were gritty, dark gray blights among the healthy brown and green of the forest.

Jemma shuffled backward, only half paying attention to her steps. As she was about to back past Skye in the direction Skye had been facing, one of the ghouls was shuffling past the tree to Skye’s right and directly ambling for Jemma. Skye’s muscles moved immediately. Her heart was already hammering in her chest as she threw on hand out to push Jemma back behind her while simultaneously pushing to jump to her feet as she swung the bow upward with all her might. The nearly skeletal zombie had time to let out a ghastly sounding groan before the bow hit the bottom of its jaw and Skye squeezed the trigger, sending the arrow slicing upward through its skull. It wasn’t much of a groan really. Its vocal chords had rotted along with most of its flesh. Skye had seen them vibrating in its throat, flapping together to make a rattling sound almost similar to a rattlesnake. The hissing rattle was enough to grab the attention of some of the further away zombies, who turned and started shuffling their way.

Skye collapsed the bow with the trigger button and hooked it to her belt. She snatched her knife free and reached for Jemma, who was staring, wide-eyed, at the large horde – half of them shuffling for Skye and Jemma, half of them meandering off in the direction of what they currently considered to be ‘home.’

“The c-cabin,” Jemma stammered. Where there were no groans before, now a loud chorus began erupting – each ghoul alerted two or three more that there was food in a different direction than the one they were heading and more and more broke off to angle toward Jemma and Skye. It seemed like an infinite sea, swaying through the trees with waves and waves of gray and black zombie waves ebbing and flowing through the shallow browns and greens of the forest.

“We can’t,” Skye turned, without letting go of Jemma’s upper arm where she’s initially caught her. Her eyes darted back and forth and her head whirled a few times until she found the only direction that zombies weren’t closing in from and took off, roughly tugging Jemma with her as she grunted out a, “This way!” Once she was sure Jemma was running with her, Skye let go of Jemma’s arm so she’d have both of her hands ready to fend off attack. She tried to orient herself as she ran so she’d know which way to go if they were eventually going to return to the cabin. They weren’t heading toward the old small town main strip they’d run away from weeks ago while being attacked. They weren’t heading in the direction of cannibal cabin. This was a new route. Skye hoped it didn’t hold too many surprises.

\--

_“Alpha, this is Bravo. We have visual on the targets, are we to engage?”_

_“That’s a negative, Bravo. Maintain distance. Orders from Top Dog are to continue recon. Engage only if necessary to secure targets alive. Copy?”_

_“Copy, Alpha,” The captain of three man team Bravo murmured back into his earpiece. “Bravo out.” He gestured with specific hand signals to indicate their orders to follow and babysit the targets for the time being._

\--

Jemma’s mind was reeling. Her heart was bounding around her ribcage with wild fear. She fought against the bile rising in the back of her throat, her stomach churning with the urge to empty its contents, but they were running – and climbing, jumping, stumbling, clawing their way through the rough terrain of the forest toward an unknown destination. Thankfully, Skye always insisted on having fully packed gear packs with them when they ventured out of the cabin. It was something Jemma had considered somewhat silly initially. She thought it would be smart to have a bag of minimal essentials, enough to get them back to the cabin if they got stuck for whatever reason. Skye had insisted, however, reminding Jemma that anything could happen to them in the world they lived in now and also insisting that it would keep them used to carrying the weight of their packs for when they did leave the cabin. This was not their carefully constructed plan. This wasn’t even one of their contingency plans.

What if they couldn’t get back to the cabin? In her packing of her bag, had she grabbed everything she could have to be properly stocked for this sudden run? Was there anything she left behind that they were desperately need and would leave them in dire straits worse than rushing through the woods away from a herd of zombies so large that, even though they had been running for at _least_ a half an hour, they could still _hear_ the collective sounds of their moans? _Had_ she forgotten anything? _What_ had she forgotten, if she _had_ forgotten something important? Were they even moving fast enough to stay ahead of the hungry heard following them? Was it even going to be possible to ever circle their way back around to the cabin without simply bringing the mass of undead back around with them? Jemma didn’t even know what direction they were currently running in. She was blindly following Skye  - not that this was necessarily a bad thing as Skye hadn’t exactly steered them wrong in the past  - and trying to keep up to the absolute best of her ability. If it hadn’t been for the cabin and the food they had available to them, Jemma would have collapsed by now.

“Still with me?” Skye called over her shoulder, winded and just loud enough for Jemma to hear her. Her face was red from the exertion, wet with sweat that was matting strands of her hair that had broken free from her ponytail down to her forehead and cheeks.

Jemma knew she had to look at the very least twice as winded as Skye, at least five shades of overheated red than Skye and she could feel her clothing layers clinging to her in the spots that were drenched in sweat under her arms and around her collar, down the middle of her lower back. She nodded, too focused on catching as much breath as she could to actually answer. She watched Skye nod, check in front of her, then behind them and then their flanks again, keeping track of their surroundings and their direction shifts.

Skye gradually eased their pace over the next half an hour. After that, she didn’t let them stop completely, but they slowed to a steady hike for water breaks and to catch their breath. The whole way Skye spared the noise of her voice to urge Jemma on, to remind her that the groans were still following them but they were ahead of them and if they kept moving it would stay that way until they could reach somewhere safe to hole up. Whenever exhaustion pulled Jemma toward stopping or reaching to unclasp the buckles on her backpack, Skye dropped back a pace or two, re-clipped the straps and tugged her along, however quickly or slowly she could. Many times over the next few hours, Jemma felt a great swell of emotion ache in the middle of her chest every single time Skye kept them going rather than leaving her behind in favor of a better head start and buffer zone.

\--

_“Bravo, this is Alpha. Top Dog is requesting sitrep.”_

_Bravo bent his left arm and the elbow and signaled for his team to halt, which they did. “Targets are still on the move, Alpha.”_

_“Bravo, this is Top Dog,” The man’s voice filtered through com links in Bravo team’s earbuds. “Did I hear that correctly? You’re saying the targets are still on the move?”_

_“Yes sir.”_

_“After six hours?”_

_“Just shy of seven, sir.”_

_“You’re telling me they haven’t once stopped in seven hours, despite the increased drop of extra rounded herds and several shelters on the route despite attempts to corral them?”_

_“Couple hours back, sitrep update was that targets stopped for ninety seconds while target two vomited. Bravo team radioed Delta and Delta released squad eight. Targets moved on, have no stopped since.”_

_Silence greeted them over the radio._

_“Top Dog, Alpha, do you copy?”_

_“Bravo, this is Alpha, that’s affirmative, we copy.”_

_“What are our orders?”_

_“Bravo, continue recon and engage only to secure targets alive, copy?”_

_“Copy, Alpha,” He quietly barked his reply. “Bravo out.”_

\--

“Skye, I can’t,” Jemma whined. She hated herself for whining. Skye hadn’t complained at all and Jemma knew she was exhausted to. Jemma knew she would likely be dead right now if it weren’t for Skye but she just couldn’t drag herself another step. She couldn’t. She didn’t have the will to do it.

“You can,” Skye reached back and snagged the clasped front strap of Jemma’s backpack and Jemma felt a firm tug as the pack pulled forward against her back and her feet carried her with the momentum to void falling.

“I’ve got blisters,” Jemma tried again, leaning back slightly against Skye’s grip.

“Me too,” Skye replied without letting go of Jemma’s pack strap. She marched onward, her grip and unrelenting force kept Jemma moving even as she protested and complained.

“My legs and sides are cramping,” Jemma hated herself a little more for each complaint she made.

“I know, Jem,” Skye said. “Stop thinking about it,” she kept moving, counted her steps when she needed to stop her brain from taking over, adjusted her grip on the strap of Jemma’s pack, reassured herself with each complaint Jemma made that it meant Jemma was safe and still with her.

“I can’t go any farther,” Jemma tried to stop again but Skye’s arm tugged harder and she was forced a few more feet, which followed by a few dozen more as she waited for a response. “Skye? Did you hear me-,”

“You said you can’t go any farther,” Skye glanced over her shoulder, “but then you did and you still are. Stop thinking about your feet, about your legs, about the exhaustion.”

Jemma frowned. “I _can’t_.”

“You _can_ ,” Skye replied. They were in great peril. Someone was following them, Skye was sure of it, and not just the herds of zombies. She had refused to stop at any of the cabins, small building businesses or anything that looked remotely like a shelter - even _after_ the sun had set. Instead, Skye kept them moving. The forest gave way to a two-lane mountain road that was so old the asphalt had nearly ground itself into gravel. Skye kept them inside the tree line but close enough to the road for the moonlight to give them just enough light to navigate. It was too cold to hide themselves in a tree for sleep and it was too cold to stop and set up camp with a fire. The cabins and buildings along the route seemed empty but Skye felt like they were being followed. She couldn’t put her finger exactly on why and it might be paranoia, but she’d told Jemma it would be dangerous to stop when the horde was still tracking them, as evidenced by the pockets of zombies they kept happening upon. There had been a handful of small skirmishes fighting them off in the later afternoon and well into the evening. They were sweaty, exhausted, cold, hungry, thirsty and not out of danger enough to stop yet.

Jemma reached for Skye’s hand and wrist and tried to pry it free from her pack strap. “I can’t-,”

Skye stopped and whirled around on her, tugging hard on the strap to pull her in, causing Jemma to almost slam right into her. They were face to face, bodies practically touching, noses short inches apart. Skye’s intensely determined eyes locked on Jemma’s wide, weary ones and Jemma couldn’t make herself look away. Skye’s knuckles went white at her tight grip on the strap. “Listen to me,” she said, maybe a bit harsher than she really needed to. “We’re in this together,” she said. “I know it’s cold, you’re tired, it hurts and I know you’re scared,” She went on right away when Jemma tried to interrupt her. “I am too.” She admitted.

“But…I…” Jemma didn’t have a response.

“But we’re in this together. So we’re going to keep going, _together_. We go until it’s safe. We go no matter what. We do _not_ give up,” She said. Her face contorted and the moonlight reflected against the pooled tears in her eyes. “I can’t do this without you, Jemma…and I _won’t_ be responsible for losing you too…”

Jemma’s jaw went from clenched in stubbornness to slack and hung open, speechless. “Skye, I-,”

Skye used the strap to pull Jemma in, closing the distance between them. With a tilt of her head, Skye leaned in just as Jemma reflexively licked her lips.

\--

_“Targets’ location?”_

_“Five klicks south of the freeway junction, Sir. Six klicks from the tunnel.”_

_“Copy, Bravo. Echo team, this is Alpha. Deploy squad twelve, copy?”_

_“Copy Alpha this is Echo – squad twelve is deployed, repeat, squad twelve is deployed. Echo out.”_

_“Foxtrot this is Alpha, are you in position, copy?”_

_“Copy Alpha, Foxtrot is in position, awaiting orders to deploy thirteen squad.”_

_“Foxtrot, maintain position and await further instructions.”_

_“Copy that, Foxtrot out.”_

\--

For a handful of moments, maybe three at most in reality, time seemed suspended between Skye and Jemma but for the heavy pounding of both their hearts. Jemma felt her breath hitch in her throat as her eyes jumped, very quickly, down to Skye’s mouth and back up again. Just before their lips touched, they were greeted with the loud stereo sound of the front of the zombie horde reaching them. Jemma saw Skye’s pupils dilate and overtake her irises even in the moonlight and in the next moment, she found herself pulled, suddenly and forcefully. Skye moved Jemma almost effortlessly despite their complaints of exhaustion and the next thing she knew, she was behind Skye and Skye had a hand reached behind her on Jemma’s arm, guiding her backward while keeping hold of her to reassure herself that Jemma was still there as they shuffled  backward through the forest and the other was held up just above shoulder level. Her hand was gripped around the handle so that they blade stuck out past the bottom of her hand next to her pinky.

Jemma grabbed up her own knife, her other hand flipped to try and catch hold of Skye’s hand, wanting to reassure her that she was safe. She quickly shuffled backward, turning to watch where they were going. “How did they catch up so fast?” Jemma gasped at the roughly two dozen shuffling, groaning, some jaw snapping, almost hissing, shadows, weaving through the forest toward them.

“I have no-,” The words died on her lips as a chorus of groans echoed through the forest from behind them. Jemma whipped around, their packs jamming together as they pressed back to back.

“Skye!” Jemma gasped. She couldn’t make her voice work for any other words. The groans came in succession – call and response. They were surrounding their prey.

“I know,” Skye replied, shuffling her feet to turn them, spinning in a circle as she tried to get an idea of every direction they were coming from. They had originally been walking to the northwest. So the first grouping had come up behind them from the southeast. Somehow they had managed to circumvent this southeastern group to also crowd in from the northeast. A third set of groans, this one a mixture of half-groan; half-hiss came from their eastern flank. The road was ten yards to their left (the north/northwestern side), the only direction not currently overwhelmed with zombies. This wouldn’t make a clean escape for them, however, because the road was a two lane mountain freeway that, even if they crossed, would dead end in tall cliffs as it had been paved into the mountain side.

Jemma felt ashamed of herself as Skye’s name came off her tongue in a defeated whimper. They were supposed to be in this together. Jemma should have been helping to figure out an escape. Instead she was nearly paralyzed with fear as they were slowly being surrounded.

\--

_“Alpha, this is Bravo, come in.”_

_“Go for Alpha.”_

_“Squad twelve deployments are surrounding targets. Orders to engage? Please advise.”_

_“That’s a negative, Bravo.”_

_“Repeat, Alpha?”_

_“Negative, Bravo. Do not engage. Top Dog’s orders are to maintain distance and trail targets to Foxtrot locale. When you establish eyes on Foxtrot and they’ve picked up targets, orders are to fallback and regroup with Echo. Copy?”_

_“Copy, Alpha. Bravo, out.”_

\--

Given their options, Skye pulled Jemma and rushed out onto the gravely asphalt of the road before the groups could close them in on all side. She pulled Jemma along and ran as fast as she could, each of the earning a surge of adrenaline from the spike of fear. Skye hated to be exposed on the road but, to be fair, it was that or get surrounded and there was no way they could fight their way out of this horde.

“Jem, keep running!” Skye called breathlessly back to Jemma, holding onto her hand at that point in a near death grip as they ran. “Don’t stop!”

Jemma couldn’t respond. She was winded and terrified and she still felt like she was going to vomit. But she listened to Skye’s voice as Skye urged her onward, forced her feet to keep finding purchase and pushing her forward, squeezed Skye’s hand back as if her life depended on it (it did).

“There’s a freeway ahead,” Skye called back to her. “We make it there, we keep running, eventually we’ll find somewhere to hide til they pass!” It was the only real game plan they had to utilize at that point.

“Don’t leave me,” Jemma said between gasps of air, terror in her voice.

Skye glanced over her shoulder and squeezed Jemma’s hand harder. “Not a chance, Jems,” She pulled Jemma’s arm to pull her alongside and kept their pace steady.

\--

_“Foxtrot, this is Alpha. Deploy thirteen squad.”_

_“Thirteen squad is deployed, Alpha. Foxtrot moving into position two and standing by, copy.”_

_“Copy, Foxtrot. Alpha out.”_

\--

Winding through abandoned cars, Skye thought about cutting to the left and climbing over the cementer median as they ran. It would take precious time to stop and do that and she was too afraid to stop. The problem, however, came as they continued running.

“Skye!” Jemma gasped breathlessly.

“I see it,” Skye replied. Up ahead was a tunnel cut through the mountain. There was nothing but darkness through the open hole and they had no way of knowing what lie inside. They had just enough of a distance between them and the horde to stop ten yards in front of the tunnel. Breathing heavily, Skye dropped Jemma’s hand and stooped to pick up a nearby stone. She reeled back and threw the gold ball sized rock as hard as she could into the tunnel, listening for any sounds as she reached back to dig through a pocket of her pack to pull out a flashlight. She flicked the flashlight on and they could see about five feet in front of them. It was a last resort, something she didn’t want to use in the forest because it would attract zombies.

She looked over at Jemma. “We can’t stay,” she said. Jemma chew lightly at her bottom lip, anxious. She nodded and looked to the tunnel. “Let’s go,” Skye whispered and they started into the dark tunnel. They only made it a few feet before the sudden groans began to reverberate through the tunnel, echoing off the walls. Everything happened so fast. They turned to run out of the tunnel but the entrance was already filling with zombies. With no other options, Skye and Jemma climbed onto a small box truck and then up onto the roof of a bus. Within second, the bus was surrounded by ghouls, rocking as they rammed into it and slapped at it, as they reached skyward to try and get to the meal they’d cornered.

The groans were so loud, Jemma couldn’t stand it. Her fear took over. She collapsed on her side, curled into a ball, sobbing and screaming for help as she tried to plug her ears against the sound. The sounds she made only made the zombies work into a deeper frenzy. “Jemma…Jem…shhhh, Jemma, I’ve got you,” Skye laid down with her and pulled her in close. She covered Jemma’s hands with her own and pulled only one hand free from Jemma’s attempt at muffling the sounds. Moving in closer, she pressed her lips to Jemma’s ear, holding their hands over it otherwise. “It’s okay, we’re okay, I’ve got you Jem, shhhh…just listen to me okay, just my voice. We’re okay. You’re okay. I won’t let them get you,” She kept repeating herself as Jemma pressed into her collarbone and shoulder and sobbed. Skye couldn’t hold her own tears back as the fear gripped at her heart. She didn’t know if these things could flip this bus over. She knew they couldn’t climb, but how long would it take for them to disperse? Would they disperse? How would they get out of this?

“Shhhh,” Skye rocked as she kept murmuring. “We’re going to get out of here. You just hang on with me, okay? Don’t give up. I need you, y’know. You can’t just leave me. We’re in this together, remember? It’s okay Jem, I’ve got you. I promise, they won’t-,” She was on the fourth repeat of her new mantra when the heavy sound of a diesel truck blasted through the cement median at the head of the tunnel, screeched to a halt and flicked on a set of  flood lights in either direction.

“YOU!” Came blaring through a megaphone on the front of the truck. Skye squinted through the flood lights and saw the drive with a megaphone at his mouth. “KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN AND STAY PUT!” He said. A moment later he bellowed. “LIGHT EM UP BOYS!” Loud heavy metal music blared from the truck, drawing the zombies to it and suddenly the sound of gunfire echoed through the tunnel, blasting Skye’s ear drums. She clamped her hands down on Jemma’s ears and covered as much of her body with her own as she could and closed her eyes against the onslaught of the light, the blasts and the ricocheting bullets. 


	21. Cargo Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings: nothing super fancy this time, some amped up tension - breeze it, buzz it, easy does it, turn off the juice boooooy!**
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and my slow updates over here! With the outline I have for this story it takes longer to lay the proper foundations for this one without having my brain make me go over and over and over it again andespite again. Sadly, this does not mean I catch all my typos, not by a long shot! So sorry for that as well! 
> 
> Much <3!!   
> :D
> 
> ______________

Skye never took her hands away from covering Jemma’s ears as the crescendo of echoing explosive, rapid gunfire bounced off the walls of the tunnel. She flinched as the sound assaulted her eardrums but rather than pulling away from Jemma to protect herself, she pulled Jemma in closer, held her tucked tight into the crook of her collarbone and shoulder and did all she could to cover as much of Jemma’s body with her own as possible. Jemma’s screams muffled into Skye’s shirt amidst the loud cacophony. She shook so violently that Skye had to keep adjusting her hold to keep her still and away from any chance falling off of the top of the bus. She managed enough clarity to realize that Skye was protecting her from as much as the situation as she could at the expense of her own pain and, barely, managed to peel her white-knuckled grip on Skye’s shirt front away in order to snake her hands up between Skye’s arms and shoulders to clamp her hands over Skye’s ears.

Skye adjusted her grip and wrapped Jemma tighter in her arms. She took deliberately slow breaths, inhaling for a few long seconds, exhaling for the same amount of time. Mentally, she counted slowly to four for each inhale and exhale. Her hope was to slow her own heartrate and to also try and calm Jemma down before she wound up hyperventilating. The bus rocked as its tires popped after being hit by stray bullets. Glass shards flew everywhere from the bus, from other cars, SUVs and trucks in the tunnel. Skye felt the hot metal of a few ricocheting bullets as they bounced off of walls and seared open patches of flesh now and then on their way by. If they survived this, Skye was busting that guy’s nose in for putting them at such risk for getting shot themselves.

\-- 

_“Foxtrot team, this is Alpha. What’s your status? Over.”_

_“Alpha, Foxtrot here. Team is in position and Fourteen squad is prepped and ready for deployment on your go, over.”_

_“Copy, Foxtrot. Standby. Alpha out.”_

_“Alpha this is Bravo, copy?”_

_“Copy Bravo, go, over.”_

_“Bravo and Echo reporting in. All squads are neutralized, making contact with targets now, standby for sitrep, over.”_

_“Copy Bravo.”_

\--

Skye could hear muffled shouts over the ringing in her ears, which still had Jemma’s hands clamped over them. She forced her eyes open to find Jemma still trembling; eyes clenched shut tightly with tears streaking her cheeks. The gunfire had ceased and, with it, so had the deafening groans of the undead horde that had trapped them.

“Jemma,” Skye’s own voice sounds muffled to her, both because of the ringing and the hands covering her ears. Slowly, Skye peeled just the heel of her left hand off of Jemma’s ear. Jemma’s eyes popped open wide. “Jem, can you hear me?” she asked. Jemma blinked and nodded once as she continued shaking. Skye’s own nerves were frazzled but it was clear to her that Jemma had reached beyond the point of exhaustion and tolerance. She’d experienced a clear mental snap. “They’re gone, Jems,” she spoke carefully; making sure her voice was steady and clear. “Hey,” Skye tried again when Jemma didn’t seem to respond right away. “We’re okay,” she promised. “Just breathe, alright? Nice and slow,” She took long, slow breaths, timing her own inhales and exhales, doing all she could to try and calm Jemma as she gently stroked a hand over Jemma’s head and then up and down her arm and back.

A long, still muffled, wolf whistle interrupted Skye’s attempts to snap Jemma out of her shaken state. Skye moved to pull away from Jemma, wanting to at least sit up to look at their saviors, but Jemma let out a sound somewhat akin to a whimper and clung to her.

“Are we clear boys?” The first voice boomed, echoing through the tunnels, purposefully using the acoustics of their surroundings to amplify the sound of his shout. Skye stiffened as she realized they now had another potential threat to face.

“Clear, boss!” One of the men called back. A third, fourth and fifth voice echoed the call from different areas in and out of the tunnel.

“That’s what I like to hear,” The first man’s voice returned. “Good work, soldiers! Keep eyes and ears open,” the voice grew louder. “Ladies!” He called next. Jemma’s eyes were so wide, in the flood lights from the truck, Skye could see they were mostly only pupil. “How y’all doin’ up there?” The man called out to them since they were still lying in a heap on top of the bus.

Skye squeezed Jemma’s arm and, slowly, moved to disentangle from the way she was wound around Jemma. She moved in a way to make sure when she slowly sat up that she was still positioned in front of Jemma to block her from anything that might come their way. She was turned a bit sideways, her left side facing out toward the tunnel entrance and the men. Jemma gripped onto her belt and the back of her jacket, hands trembling even as they dug into the flesh below the layers of clothing she death gripped at.

“There you are!” The first man said. “Are y’all alright? No bites or other wounds?”

“We haven’t been bit,” Skye replied confidently, though she hadn’t actually had a chance to check either of them. No, Skye would know if they’d been bit.

The man nodded. He could see Skye’s hand poised back toward her right hip and knew she was preparing to pull a weapon if needed. He put his hands up slowly in surrender. “Now, now, we don’t need to worry about trigger happy. We mean you no harm,” He assured with a grin.

Skye narrowed her eyes and focused on the man and what she could see of him. They were in a military truck – a huge affair that sat on high off the ground due to the size of its wheels, with a canvas covered truck bed. They men wore dark BDUs, more navy than black. Grant always said navy was a better color to blend in at night. Black wasn’t a natural color in the darkness. The night was filled with navy hues and that meant dark navy would let you blend into surroundings better at night. Though she knew it wasn’t her brother, the man’s physique reminded her quite a bit of Grant; tall, lean but muscular, short dark hair, almost black. Skye didn’t let herself get sucked into thinking the man would be anything like her brother, however, especially not when he moved to jump down from a turret in the back of the truck that he’d been standing in and wielding the machine gun and Skye spotted the painted white crossbones on his chest plate.

“That’s close enough for now,” Skye called to him to keep him from approaching the bus she and Jemma were on. Her grip on the handgun tightened and she made slow movements to pull it from its holster so the men wouldn’t catch the agonizingly slow attempt to get the weapon free in case she needed it. Skye was calculating shots in her head. If she had to, if she could get a jump on them, she could take out at least two of them before a bullet came her way and she might have time to drop into the bus below with Jemma through the large, open, emergency exit hatch in the roof nearby them.

He stopped moving, hands still in the air and away from any weapons. There was still a driver in the truck, which was idling at the mouth of the tunnel, flood lights bright and directly shining at the girls. Two other soldiers were making their way around stabbing skulls of any of the remaining zombies that weren’t completely annihilated by the hail of bullets they’d unleashed.

“Let me introduce myself,” He pulled on hand in toward his chest and said, “I’m Brock,” He used his first name rather than his last name as they usually did when not speaking with Alpha or Top Dog as their team call signs. “This here is Hayward,” Brock pointed to the man closest to him and then pointed to indicate each man as he said their names, “Giyera, Carl and Mace,” Each man grunted, nodded, or spoke out a short reply to acknowledge their name as they worked, watching for any possible movement in or around the tunnel and their flanks. “Back in the truck still is our driver, Blake.” Brock turned his attention back up to Skye.

Skye felt something in her gut knot, felt the muscles along her spine stiffen. Something about the look in his eyes made her wary. Brock looked at her, his face a mask of calm but his eyes expectant. Skye remained silent. Her eyes followed Brock and surveyed the situation around them. They had been chased all day by a horde that seemed to catch up to them every time Skye was sure she had given them enough space to slow their pace or take a break. Skye and Jemma hadn’t had a single stop for food. They’d gulped down quick mouthfuls of water here and there. The first time they had stopped longer than a minute’s time, they almost got surrounded and then wound up literally surrounded in the tunnel. And these guys just expected her to believe they came out of the nowhere at just the right time to save her and Jemma? Not a chance. Skye didn’t believe in that kind of luck. Hadn’t that kind of luck been the kind of luck that led to Skye and Jemma meeting each other? Maybe.

Jemma let out another, much quieter, for lack of a better term, whimper sound. This one was closer to Skye’s ear as Jemma had  a death grip on the back of her jacket, under her backpack and was hovering as close to Skye’s left arm as she could manage without sudden movement. Skye’s left hand shifted and rested on Jemma’s knee in an attempt to reassure her.

“What are your names?” Brock asked, deciding to change up his tactics, trying to get a response so he could gauge what it would take to get them into the truck.

Skye hesitated, trying to fight through the exhaustion, through the fear and the haze of overload in her own brain to figure out what kind of danger they now faced from these new fellow humans. “I’m Skye,” she answered. “This is Jemma,” she nodded toward Jemma.

“Good to meet you, ladies,” Brock smiled at her. His smile made the knot in Skye’s stomach turn tighter. “It’s a good thing we came upon you when we did.”

“Is it?” Skye let the two little words out before she could stop them. She instantly regretted it but they were already out. She might as well own them. She doubled down and fixed her stare down directly at Brock, watching his reaction very carefully.

Brock tensed for just a moment and then rolled his shoulders back and shrugged. “You tell me?” He asked. “While I’m sure you had a plan to get out of that jam yourselves-,”

“Next wave’s comin’ up on our six, boss!” Blake called out.

“Listen,” Brock’s tone came out as a placating mask, covering over his irritation that he had to convince her. “We’ve got fortified shelter, food, water – electricity, even.” 

Skye felt it in her gut that he was hiding something. It was too convenient, this sudden group of saviors happening upon them when they were so clearly trapped and in such dire trouble. Now, he was generously offering them shelter and a share of scarce resources. Something didn’t fit right, though she couldn’t yet pinpoint the exact cause of her unease. “What’s in it for you?” The words were out before they had fully reached her brain for proper filtering.   
  
Brock’s smile faltered. Blake called out, “Fuck ‘em! They wanna die, let ‘em rot with the rest of ‘em!”

Skye was completely unperturbed by Blake’s suggested threat and she could tell by the initial look on Brock’s face that he was aware of it. There were situations that were worse than certain death. Not only was Skye aware of this, but she knew Jemma was as well even if Jemma couldn’t properly express it right that moment because she was suffering a clear mental breakdown.

“I understand how you might think we were out to recruit you for some nefarious reason,” Brock kept trying. “I just want to give you the chance to regroup before you move on. To survive the night,” he glanced at Jemma, who was clinging to Skye’s side and back as if her life depending on it and was shaking so hard that Skye had to keep readjusting her grip and aim ever so slightly. “Together,” Brock added.

Skye considered her options. Would they have enough ammunition to take out however many zombies were approaching on their own? Would she be able to make Jemma get back on her feet and move once they were clear? Jemma had obviously reached a complete breaking point and Skye didn’t know what it was going to take to snap her out of it. On the other hand, she had no idea where they were going back to, how many other people were there or what the catch was if they agreed to go.

Brock shrugged and started to turn for the truck. “Alright, can’t say I didn’t give you every opportunity-,”

“Wait,” Skye blurted. It didn’t sound like a plea, but it sure felt like it. Brock stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. “We’re not handing over any of our gear or weapons if we go with you.” She said.

Brock nodded. “Fair enough.”

“If we make the decision to leave, even if it when we first get to your doorstep, we leave free and clear,” Skye said. “We don’t want your supplies, weapons, anything like that. We don’t want any trouble, we just want-,” 

“To live. Yeah, I gathered that,” Brock offered them a smile and then looked to the other two guys near him, Carl and Mace she’d said their names were. “Help them down. Let’s get moving.”

Skye, with great reluctance, released the hammer on her gun and flipped the safety on with her thumb. She slipped it into its holster on her thigh and took a mental inventory of her weapons; Gun in right thigh holster, hunting knife hooked to sheath on left side of belt, utility folding blade in right cargo pocket, manual saw chain left cargo pocket, folding utility knife in left boot, collapsible bow clipped to belt. Turning to Jemma, she very gently took Jemma’s face in her hands. “Jem, can you hear me?” she asked.

Jemma’s pupils were wide saucers that overtook her irises. She stared at Skye blankly as if she had simply mentally checked out and no one was home. When Skye spoke, Jemma heard the sound and her eyes tried to focus on the face in front of her but it felt like she were miles away despite the fact that Skye’s hands were on her face.

Skye hated to make this decision on her own but what choice did she have? They needed to get to safety. This was their only option given the current circumstances of their situation. They had to take it. “Jem…we’re gonna climb down now.” She broke it down into short, easy sentences, hoping to get a response from Jemma. “Then we’ll get in the truck,” she said.

Jemma tensed. She suddenly looked around them as if she was starting to process the situations a bit more. Her grip on Skye tightened and a strangled sounding whimper escaped her. She shook her head back and forth a few times.

“Jem-,” 

“Time’s wasting! Move your asses!” Blake called out as Mace took over the coaxing duties while Brock, Giyera and Carl went back to taking headshots at the approaching straggle of ghouls. Jemma jumped at the sound of the man’s voice and the earsplitting echo of gunshots around the tunnel.

“Shhh, hey, hey,” Skye leaned closer. “Look at me,” She said it firmly but not harshly. Jemma’s eyes focused, finally, and locked onto Skye’s. “I’m scared too,” she said. “You have to trust me right now, okay?” Skye didn’t entirely trust herself but she had to make the case for both of them. “This is our only option right now, okay?”

It took a little more coaxing but Skye finally convinced Jemma to climb down from the bus with her. Mace escorted them to the back of the truck. Skye climbed in first with ease, which surprised Mace. Mace didn’t know she had been inside the back and the passenger seat of military cargo trucks like these before thanks to her brother. Skye and Mace helped Jemma climb up into the tall truck (the thing’s tires alone were taller than both Skye and Jemma and likely a couple of the men in the group too). Mace, Carl and Giyera climbed into the back. Brock made his way to and climbed into the passenger seat. Giyera moved to the front of the truck bed and climbed up into the turret they’d fixed on top.

“The ride’s gonna be bumpy, so get settles in!” Brock called through the open glass window at the back of the truck cab. Carl and Mace locked up the back of the truck and took out a few ghouls, whose hands flopped over the top of the tailgate, reaching blindly for a meal.

Skye brought Jemma to one side of the truck and sat her down on the bench. Carl sat down and pulled a candy bar from his pocket and started eating it, ignoring the groans from the ghouls approaching the truck. Mack unrolled the canvas back that matched the olive green canvas covering the top of the truck and tied it into place. He grabbed a folded, shook it open and held it out to Skye. Skye gave him a grateful nod and thanked him. She helped Jemma out of her backpack but was careful to place the pack at her own feet and very discreetly hooked her foot through the strap so it couldn’t be pulled away from her easily. She opened the blanket up all the way and wrapped it around both of them as the truck roared to life loudly and started moving. The cold air was over ten degrees colder as it came through the canvas of the truck so Skye wrapped them up until only parts of the their eyes and foreheads were showing just so she could keep an eye on the men in periphery in the dark.

Jemma burrowed into Skye’s side, pressed her face into the crook of her neck and shoulder and continued trembling. “Skye,” she murmured her name just loud enough for Skye to hear, to know that she was capable of communicating. 

“Shhh,” Skye kissed her temple and kept her lips against Jemma’s ear, hidden below the blanket. She could murmur there and Jemma would hear her over the loud diesel engine but the others wouldn’t and they wouldn’t see her lips move either because of the blanket. “We’re okay,” she said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jem, I promise.”

Jemma squeezed her tighter around the waist. “We can’t go with them,” she sniffled. “We can’t go. We can’t go,” she said it over and over, crying and murmuring it as she shivered against Skye. 

“We had no other options,” Skye kissed the side of her head again and began to rock with her slightly. She was aware that Carl and Mace were watching them but she pretended to ignore it in favor of calming Jemma down. “It’s just going to be for one night. We’ll leave once you’ve had some sleep,” she promised. “No one’s going to keep us against our will.” Skye was aware that, now that they were in the truck, it would be difficult to get away. All she could do was hope this wasn’t a big mistake and prepare to fight as best as she could. “Just breathe, okay? We’ll figure it out together. When we get there...you don’t let any of them take away your pack or your weapons and we don’t let them separate us for any reason. Okay?”

Jemma burrowed deeper into the crook of Skye’s neck and shoulder as she nodded. She tried to breathe deeply and calm herself down. Skye rocked her gently despite the bouncing of the truck and rubbed a hand along her back in soothing random patterns. She murmured reassurances into Jemma’s ear and wiped at her tears.

\--

  
_“Alpha, this is EchoBravo leader checking in, do you copy? Over.”_

_“Copy EchoBravo – what’s your status? Over.”_

_“Cargo acquired. En route to base. ETA 0300. Over.”_

_“Copy, EchoBravo. Alpha out.”_

\--

The longer the ride, the more suspicious Skye grew. What were these guys doing so far out from their camp? Where did their gas come from? Where were they situated that they had access to military grade gear, gas, ammunition and, supposedly, food, clean water and electricity – on a scale for multiple people not just a family group like Grant’s safe house cabin? Had Skye led them into a massive trap? It was entirely possible and Skye had known that when she agreed. She told herself that she had no choice because she couldn’t bring Jemma around and they were too vulnerable to be left where they were but was that really true or was Skye just exhausted as well from the constant running?

Skye wanted to ask them why they were such a long way from home, but she knew there were obvious answers they could give her. It was impossible to be entire self-sufficient. Skye and Jemma were away from their cabin because they needed to hunt to supplement their diet. Farming took time. Canning farmed items took time. Foraging took time. Everything took time and energy. The upside to Skye not asking them any questions was they didn’t ask her any in return. Maybe they assumed she was too busy taking care of Jemma. She wanted to steal Carl’s candy bar as he scarfed it down.

By her best estimation, they had driven as least for an hour and a half, if not longer. She couldn’t quite guess what speed they were going. She just knew they were very far away from the safe house, her ability to check and see if Grant had shown up and the last pieces of what was left of Skye’s family in those photo frames on the mantle place. She felt a sharp pang in her chest as she visualized the photos in her mind. Her arms tightened around Jemma. It was just the two of them now. This was her new family unit and she wasn’t going to lose another person she loved. The thought gave her pause as it caused a wholly different feeling than the pang of pain to bloom through her chest. She squeezed Jemma tighter as the truck slowed to a stop and radios buzzed to life. She heard the static filled squawk of pass phrases going back and forth and heard the mechanical whirring of some kind of gate or door before the truck lurched and rolled forward again, this time at an easy, slow pace.

With a slight squeal of the brakes, the truck rolled to a stop. The change in temperature let Skye know before the back tarp was opened that they were inside. Mace rolled up the tarp and let the tailgate down before he climbed down out of the truck. Carl stood and stooped to grab Jemma’s bag.

“I’ve got it,” Skye said right away as she hooked the shoulder strap of the bag.

Carl arched his eyebrows but put his hands up in surrender. “Whatever,” He muttered then turned for the back of the truck to jump down. Giyera climbed down from the turret, spared a glance their way and tipped his head with a crooked grin before he climbed out of the back of the truck.

“We’re here,” Skye told Jemma, who was thankfully quite a bit calmer than she had been when they got into the truck. Jemma was still silent but the vacant expression had mostly left her face and eyes and she was alert enough to look around as Skye pulled the blanket free and dropped it to the bench behind them. Jemma was coherent enough that she reached for her bag right away and Skye released it. Jemma slipped her shoulders through the strap and clipped the chest and waist straps, pulled them all tight. Skye led the way to the back of the truck and climbed to the ground before she helped Jemma down.

Skye didn’t like being locked into a compound and hadn’t managed to get a look at the grounds as they drove in before the garage door came down. The garage held three other similar trucks and a score of jeeps, motorcycles and a few other smaller vehicles. Skye was trying her best to look around and memorize everything around her, especially possible escape routes, as discreetly as possible as she helped Jemma down.

“Welcome back boys,” The voice boomed loudly, full of excitement as a grinning middle-aged man wearing a turtle neck sweater with tactical cargo pants and boots approached. He had gun holsters at his hip and hooked across his shoulders for easy reach. His receding hair was cropped short and brushed back and there was a gap in his teeth as he flashed a bright grin at them. “Good evening ladies and welcome!” He slapped Brock on the back and then approached Jemma and Skye. Skye instinctively shifted her weight and stepped in front of Jemma protectively as the man approached. He noticed the movement but didn’t acknowledge that it happened. Instead he thrust his hand out toward Skye for a shake. His eyes raked over her from head to toe as he said. “I’m John. I trust my boys took good care of you on the ride back?” He asked.

Skye felt reluctant to be pulled into anyone’s grip but she knew it would be rude not to shake the man’s hand. So she reached out her right hand, which had been hovering by her gun, and shook John’s. “Skye,” she told him as his much large hand engulfed hers and squeezed in an overly firm grip. Skye reflexively squeezed back as they shook and made sure she wasn’t the first to break the contact.

“And you are, miss?” John turned to Jemma, who shifted closer to Skye’s back, or to the backpack on her shoulders at least.

“This is Jemma,” Skye answered for her.

John nodded. “Good. Good to see you’re both unscathed. Blake kept us updated on the horde you encountered. The boys weren’t sure if you’d been bit or not?” he arched his eyebrows, this time appraising both of them with a head to toe gaze, looking for wounds.

“No bites. No injuries,” Skye told him. “We were lucky this time.”

John nodded gravely. “Good thing our crew was out in the area at the right time,” He said. 

“Funny how those strings of luck happen,” Skye replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Escaped that horde with no bites – it’d been following us nearly an entire day. Then your team showed up just when we had our backs to the proverbial wall and on top of it they were nice enough to offer us a temporary stay in your…compound?” Skye glanced around as she motioned to the place. “If the lottery still existed, today would be the day to play my numbers.” 

John watched Skye as she spoke. There was a glint of something in his eye but he just smiled at her. “Sounds like you’ve had a long day despite the luck. Why don’t I show you to your room and let you get cleaned up and settled? When you’re done, we’ll have ___ cook you up a nice warm meal before bed. How does that sound?”

Skye considered her options. She wanted to insist that they just leave right now. She didn’t want to stay. The idea of being locked in without any control over her own comings and goings made her skin itchy. She hesitated and John picked up on it and quickly added.

“Of course we’ll give you a tour of the compound and you can take a bigger look in the morning if you want, entirely up to you ladies,” John said, putting his hands up in imitation of surrender. “We can discuss location and logistic if you want to leave after you’ve had a good night’s sleep.” He said in that same placating manner that Brock had earlier.

Skye nodded. “Alright,” she conceded. The idea of a meal and some sleep was too appealing to turn down right then as the exhaustion was really starting to set in for Skye as much as she wanted to fight it. There had been too many adrenaline surges in the day and now she just felt depleted. She and Jemma needed to regroup and figure this out.

“Great!” John beamed another grin at her. “Boy,” he looked to his team and nodded off in one direction. “Hang up your gear and check in with Miles. I’ll meet you for a debriefing as soon as I finish showing these ladies to their room.”

The men grunted and made their way off to one side of the garage. “Ladies, if you’ll just follow me this way,” He motioned for them to follow and started walking toward a door near the front of the garage that Skye had already catalogued in her visual sweep of the garage. Skye kept a mental log of every turn they took and every door they went through. Not only was this place buzzing with full electricity, it was full of cameras that were supposed to be ‘hidden’ or just out of sight out of mind, but Skye saw all of them. She wondered if they were visual only or contained audio as well. Skye’s eyes moved constantly, taking whatever mental snapshots she could – emergency exit stairs, large air vents, fire exits maps, etc. The compound was large from what maps she had seen and they were in the dead center of it, on a basement level floor.

“This will be your room.” John opened the door of a room with a key and stepped in before he held the key out to Skye. Jemma followed Skye inside, still holding onto Skye’s arm, which she’d grabbed by the elbow when Skye had started walking. The room was about ten feet by ten feet. In front of the door walking in was a small round table with three chairs pushed into it. Past that was a short counter with a sink, microwave and cabinets with a short refrigerator on the other side of it. Past that was an open closet door. There was another door on the back wall that led to a bathroom and to the left against the wall there was a queen sized bed and a desk further down the wall from it.

“This is quite generous of you,” Skye said as she accepted the key. She had already spotted a camera in the top right hand corner of the room, feeding out of a smoke detector. She made a mental note of it without raising suspicion.

“I took the liberty of stocking your fridge with something to drink and some snacks. The bathroom has soap and shampoo. Anything else you need should be in the cabinet under the sink. You ladies go ahead and take all the time you need. When you’re ready to grab a full meal, our cafeteria is close by. Just make a right coming out of your room, when the hallway dead ends, turn left and go through the double doors at the end of that hallway, can’t miss it.” John flashed them another toothy grin. “I’ll leave you to it,” He clapped his hands together and let himself out of the room, shutting the door behind him on the way.

Skye looked down at the key in her hand and tried not to frown. She pulled her necklace off and opened the beaded chain, slipped the key onto it then put the necklace back around her neck. She walked over to the door which had a lock on the knob, a deadbolt and a chain link lock. Skye locked all of them. She grabbed a chair from the ‘dining’ table and propped it under the door knob as well just like they did at home. Finally, she turned to look at Jemma. She had so much to say, so much that she wanted to talk about – not just their situation, though, things like that kiss they almost had on the road.

Now was not the time for that, though. “Let’s get cleaned up,” She held her hand out and waited for Jemma to take it. When Jemma’s hand wrapped around hers, Skye led her into the bathroom, keeping everything they owned with them as they went. She locked up the bathroom door behind them even though she’d already secured the door to their room with multiple locks and the chair.

Without pretense or conversation, moving out of necessity rather than true conscious thought, they began shedding their belongings – their backpacks, their messenger bags, their boots, belts, weapons, their clothes, everything. The water was turned on and warmed up and they both climbed into the standing shower in the room. Skye thought later that she should have tried to look for cameras in the bathroom before they got in there, but, honestly, she didn’t even care at this point. Her whole body felt tense and stiff. She felt like she was barely on her feet. Her goal was to keep Jemma awake enough to get them both cleaned from the sweat and muck of their day of running, get a (hopefully) good meal into them and then catch enough sleep to recuperate before they got back on the road. Skye kept repeating the plan in her head to try and keep her focus as best as she could. 


	22. You’re Trembling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...how's it going, y'all? 
> 
> <3
> 
> __________________

Out of the shower, Skye pulled a terry cloth robe on and took great care in helping Jemma dry off and changed into new, clean clothes without leaving or unlocking the bathroom door. She sat Jemma down on the closed toilet seat and set about drying her hair most of the way before she carefully combed all the knots out of it. By the Time she was done, Jemma had tears welled in her eyes but still hadn’t spoken. Skye kissed her forehead and gently reached out to touch her cheek. “Hey,” She spoke softly and Jemma’s eyes shifted to look at Skye’s. “We’re okay for right now,” she assured. Jemma just stared at her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you here,” she promised. “Okay?”

Jemma’s eyes came into focus as they watched Skye’s face. She nodded and Skye’s thumb swiped across her cheek to gently wipe away a stray tear.

“Why don’t we go get some of that food they were talking about?” Skye asked her. “At least fill up while we try and get another read on these guys,” she said with a small smirk. “What do you think?” She stepped to the side and crouched to gather her own clean clothes. She stepped into some clean underwear and pulled jeans on over it before she took the robe off and slipped on a sports bra.

“Okay,” Jemma spoke so softly that Skye almost thought she imagined it. She turned and grinned at Jemma, clearly a bit relieved that Jemma spoke.

As Skye pulled her arms through the sleeves of a clean t-shirt, she leaned over and kissed the top of Jemma’s head. Jemma blinked and looked up at her as Skye pulled the shirt over her head and tugged the hem down into place. “What?” she asked with an innocent lilt to her tone, taking advantage of the opportunity for a very brief moment of levity. “I missed your voice,” she gave Jemma nonchalant shrug and tugged a long sleeved thermal Henley shirt over her t-shirt. She tugged on her boots and then moved to help Jemma back into hers, taking her time to tie them up properly. As she was finishing the knot on the second one, Jemma leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Skye froze as Jemma lingered and then looked up and gave her a curious little smile.

“Thank you,” Jemma murmured.

Skye gave the outside of her leg a squeeze and stood up. She grabbed up her backpack and slipped it across both her shoulders. With her left hand, she grabbed Jemma’s pack. She unlocked the bathroom door and pulled it open. She held her right hand out to Jemma. “C’mon, Jems,” She nodded her head toward the door. “Let’s go have lunch on these guys and see what they’re hiding, hm?”

Jemma’s wary gaze traveled from Skye’s face to her hand. Skye could see the deep lines of exhaustion tunneled into Jemma’s forehead. Still, Jemma nodded and reached for Skye’s hand. “That’s my girl,” Skye grinned and helped Jemma to her feet.

Jemma ducked her head bashfully at the words as she wound up right in Skye’s

personal space after Skye pulled her up. “Hey,” Skye ducked her head and caught Jemma’s eyes. “After we get you some food and rest…we’re gonna talk about some things…yeah?” she arched her eyebrows.

Jemma watched Skye’s face. Skye could tell she was looking for something and made a mental note that she should bring that up when they did talk. Jemma nodded.

“Good,” Skye gave her a reassuring smile as Jemma reached to take her backpack from Skye and pulled it to her shoulders. Her stomach grumbled and Skye chuckled. “Let’s go get fed.”

“I don’t trust them,” Jemma spoke softly.

“Good,” Skye repeated. She leaned closer and whispered, “Me either.”

\---

Thankfully, when they reached the kitchen, Skye didn’t have to tell the cook that they would go ahead and make their own food since the food was being served banquet style. Skye and Jemma watched multiple men – the ones who had picked them up – walk up and scoop heaps of hot food onto their plates before going and sitting at one of the cafeteria tables where they promptly started scarfing down food. Skye and Jemma approached the food cautiously but with loudly rumbling stomachs. They were careful to make sure they grabbed food from the dishes that they’d seen the other men scooping from, poured drinks only from the jugs the others had pulled from, just in case.

They sat down together, their packs at their feet, each one with a foot hooked around a strap. Jemma reached out with her left hand to settle it on Skye’s leg, trying to give herself the reassurance that Skye was there. Skye set her right hand down on top of Jemma’s and gave it a small squeeze. They began to eat in relative silence, each one trying to eat the food slowly to avoid stomach aches. They ignored the looks from the men scattered around the room. Eventually one of them, Miles, came to join them. He said down heavily in the seat across from them at the table. Both girls jumped slightly at the noise, squeezed each other’s hand, then got back to eating.

“Hi,” Miles said. “I’m Miles.” He grinned, mostly at Skye since Skye looked up at him when he spoke. “Which one of you is which?”

Jemma leaned closer to Skye, their legs touching. She was clearly uncomfortable. “I’m Skye,” Skye answered Miles and then nodded to Jemma. “This is Jemma.”

“Shy, huh?” Miles looked at Jemma and tried to catch her eye but Jemma had her eyes fixed down on her plate. “Or she doesn’t speak English? Why don’t you tell her she doesn’t have to be so bashful. We’re not going to hurt you,” He smiled.

“She’s recovering from a traumatic experience,” Skye frowned at Miles.

Miles paused in shoveling food into his mouth. He nodded. “I know. I’m just saying, we’re all friends here.”

“We’ve experienced a lot of less than friendly and generous people in our travels,” Skye said. “So do forgive us if we come off as wary. We’ve seen the worst of what humans can do when they have power over other humans.”

Miles laughed and swallowed some food. “You think we have power over you?”

“Your people control the doors in and out,” Skye replied calmly, without malice. “And there are cameras everywhere, even private places in the dorms.” She arched her eyebrows slightly. “You think you can convince me that this is somehow for our own safety?” She arched her right eyebrow. Miles gaped at her, slowing chewing a mouthful of food as the other men chuckled.

“Are you always a sarcastic bitch when people roll out the red carpets and grace you with their generosity?” Miles retorted. Skye completely ignored the insult and went back to her food. Miles turned to Jemma. “Is that why you don’t talk? Hm? She’s trained you into silence, hm?”

“Lydon,” Mace called calmly from one of the other tables. “Let the ladies eat in peace.”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, don’t you know it’s rude to ignore people-,” Miles got in close, snapping his fingers in Jemma’s face before Skye let go of Jemma’s hand, swung at Mile’s hand in Jemma’s face, pinning it to the table, and stabbed her fork half an inch deep into the back of it without batting an eye.

“Try and touch her again and I’ll shove your own balls down your throat.” Skye growled through her teeth as Miles cried out at the injury to his hand. The whole cafeteria fell silent as Skye let go of Miles’ hand and he yanked it back across the table with the fork still sticking out of it.

“You think you can just come in here and treat us like-,”

“Miles!” John’s voice boomed across the cafeteria and Miles immediately shut up and stood at attention, fork in his hand and all.

“Sir,” Miles muttered through gritted teeth.

“Seems like you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with our new guests,” John said as he walked closer. “Why don’t you apologize for your eagerness and go get your hand taken care of in medical?” John made it sound on the surface like it was a question but from the look on Miles’ face Skye and Jemma knew it was an order.

“I’m sorry for my intrusion on your meal,” Miles forced himself to say. He gave John a salute with his good hand and then turned and left. John pushed Miles’ tray to the side and sat down in his old seat. Skye picked up her spoon and went back to eating. She watched John and waited for him to speak first.

“I apologize if Miles startled you with his eagerness. We don’t get that many friendly visitors here,” John said. “I hope you won’t hold his forwardness against us all,” He smiled and Skye couldn’t quite place why the smile and look he gave her made her feel dirty inside.

She gave a small nod and swallowed her food. “I apologize if my actions seemed rash,” She said, leaving her tone clear and steady to let John know she actually wasn’t sorry. “I hope you’ll understand what it’s been like to live out there with only us to protect ourselves. We do not let others manhandle each other. If that’s a problem, we’ll confine ourselves to the room you’ve provided for the night and we will leave in the morning, no harm, no foul.” She watched John’s face as he registered what she was telling him. Jemma’s eyes shifted back and forth between John and Skye, her hand gripped Skye’s leg anxiously. Skye seemed to remain nothing but calm in the face of this potentially dangerous moment.

“As far as I see it,” John said with an easy shrug. “You were defending yourselves. We’re all friends here now. No one else will be invading your personal space unwanted, I can assure you.” He told them. “You can let me know tomorrow after you’ve had a good sleep, whether you would like to remain here or leave.” He told them. “Mace here,” he nodded over his shoulder, “Will take you girls on a tour of the facility when you’re done eating. Okay?”

Skye and Jemma both nodded. “Thank you,” Skye said with a nod.

John smiled. “Excellent.” He drummed the table lightly. “You’ll let any of us know if you need anything, yes?” He asked. Skye nodded and John’s smile broadened. “Good. Excellent. Carry on and good night,” He rose from the table and left the room.

Skye looked over at Jemma once they were alone again and barely whispered out, “Sorry,” to her as she reached down to squeeze her hand again. Jemma shook her head and squeezed Skye’s hand. There was no need for the apology. Jemma appreciated all of Skye’s protection though sometimes she didn’t think she earned it or deserved it. Skye nodded to assure Jemma she understood and lifted her hand up to kiss the back of her knuckles, not caring if the others saw.

\--

Skye and Jemma were both exhausted. Their feet and legs had been put to the test with their travels today and both had achy, screaming muscles, begging for rest. Still, both of

them paid very close attention to the layout of the underground army bunker base despite the fact that Mace kept trying to take them in confusing directions to throw off their sense of direction. Both knew they would compare notes later to figure out a mental floor plan layout together on their own. So far, Mace was the only one of the men they’d encountered that didn’t quite make her stomach twist up in knots for any particular reason. It didn’t mean she let her guard down. Instead, she tried to figure out if he was just that good at hiding it or playing innocent, or if he might just actually be a decent person.

“That’s the tour,” Mace motioned for them to turn down another hall. “If we head down this hall, I can take you back to your room. I know you’ve had a long day. You must be more than ready for sleep-,”

“You forgot that hall,” Skye nodded toward a blocked off hallway.

Mace turned to look where Skye indicated and frowned. “Unfortunately there’s no way through to the other side.” He replied easily enough with a shrug.

“What cause it?” Jemma asked. “Are we safe from collapse in the other wings?” It was the longest string of words Jemma had strung together since the horde attack.

Mace turned to her in surprise. He even smiled at the fact that she was able to form the coherent questions. “Welcome back,” He said to her with a nod. “I wasn’t here when it happened. When John and some of the others arrived this place was overrun with ghouls. That wing in particular was a lost cause. Above it is only mountain and rock. They caused the cave in then went to the only other entrance into the wing to cull whatever was left. When they were done, they sealed that side off the same way as this one,” He pointed to the blocked off area behind him with his thumb.

Skye and Jemma exchanged a look, wordlessly letting each other know through the expression that something wasn’t quite right with that story. Skye’s jaw dropped and she threw the back of her hand up to cover her mouth as she let out an uncontrollable yawn she suddenly let out. It was so strong it brought follow-up tears to her eyes that she quickly wiped at.

Mace chuckled. “C’mon, let’s get you two back to your bunk.” He nodded for them to follow and led the way back down the hall he’d first indicated. Jemma hooked Skye’s free hand as they turned to follow.

\--

Back inside their room, Skye locked up their door and propped the chair under the knob. She took their backpacks and placed them by the side of the bed within arm’s reach. She helped a still somewhat sluggish Jemma out of her boots, which she put strategically next to the bed as well. Jemma moved to lay down. Skye moved like she  was going to walk away but Jemma reached out to grab her wrist, stopping Skye in her tracks.

“Check tomorrow?” Jemma didn’t want it to sound like a plea for Skye not to stray far. She knew Skye wanted to find every camera in the room she could and disable them. Jemma just wanted to be near her, to process everything, to feel safe.

Skye looked over her shoulder, her eyes met Jemma’s for less than a second before she nodded her head. “Okay,” she nodded. She held her finger up quickly. “Just one quick thing. It’ll take thirty seconds. Okay?”

Jemma bit into the corner of her bottom lip but nodded against the pillow and let go of Skye, albeit with reluctance. Skye jogged a couple feet to the desk and turned on the small radio there. Skye fiddled for a bit with the ipod attached to it until she found some slow, calm music to put on for them, not too loud, just loud enough, though. She jogged back over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, her back facing Jemma and leaned over to untie and tug off her boots. Jemma’s palm pressed into the middle of Skye’s back and Skye paused at the touch. It almost made Jemma retract her hand. A moment later, Skye stood, pulled up the end of the cover Jemma was already tucked under and climbed in facing Jemma.

With comfort and ease on both their parts, they wound together. Their legs became a tangled mess so that their hips and torsos could rest flush to each other. Jemma’s arms wound under Skye’s arms and around her middle, leaving her fingers to trace the memorized patterns of star constellations along the expanse of Skye’s back. Pulled the covers up to pretty much their chins and jawlines before she reached to pull Jemma’s hair free from the elastic it was in so she could stroke her fingers through the loose strands. Their noses were just barely touching enough to nuzzle. To Skye, being wrapped this closely in Jemma’s arms felt like being home; describing it any other way would have done it a grave disservice. The problem, despite all of Skye’s confidence and bravado in most situations, was that she was terrified of trying to find a way to tell this to Jemma. Skye lost everyone she loved. Loving Jemma meant she was bound to lose her. Jemma was all she had. Jemma was the only reason she kept going at this point. What other reason was there? Jemma was all Skye had and Skye was determined to keep Jemma alive.

“I’m sorry I checked out back there,” Jemma murmured, dropping the previously unbroken eye contact between them in shame. “Something just...it just snapped or-,”

“Shhhhh,” Skye shook her head slightly against the pillow which caused their noses to lightly nuzzle back and forth. Skye’s thumb stroked against her cheekbone, her palm cradled the rest of Jemma’s cheek. “You don’t have to apologize for being scared, Jems. I nearly pissed my pants back there myself,” she tried to joke and when Jemma frowned, Skye kissed her forehead. “We’re safe for the moment.” She said. “And that’s the most important…that’s the part that matters right now, okay?”

Jemma nodded. She leaned in closer and Skye held her breath but Jemma shifted and moved her lips to Skye’s ear, burrowing so they were covered by Skye’s hair. “They think we’re a couple,” she whispered against her ear then pulled back and looked up into Skye’s face for a reaction.

Skye resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at any of the cameras she’d already found in the room. She looked, instead, down into Jemma’s eyes. A crooked grin pulled up the right corner of her mouth. She bent and leaned closer to Jemma until their mouths were almost touching and whispered. “I suppose we ought to give them a show to keep up the ruse?” She arched her right eyebrow. Skye would have preferred to spend some time talking to Jemma about their almost kiss on the road but this joke wasn’t without its merits, especially when it made Jemma’s cheeks  and neck flush and made her look at Skye as if she were hungry all over again, though not for food. “Jem, I-,” Before another syllable was out, Jemma’s hands were on her face and in her hair and their mouths were melded together, sealed along all edges. Skye’s heart jumped into her throat, her body responded quicker than her brain could catch up with the situation, lips and tongue at once in a dance for dominance with Jemma’s as her unprepared lungs fought to make her pull away for air.

Exhausted, fed to a full stomach, and pulse racing dangerously fast, Skye gave in and threw herself fully into the act of kissing Jemma Simmons, in bed, bodies pressed tight together, hands framing faces, fingers tangling into strands of hair. For an indeterminable amount of time, both sets of lips pulled, nipped and sucked, sparring with each other to the point of swelling, breaking only far enough to try and gasp in the same breath of air. When they finally broke apart, each was flushed from collar to forehead, breathless with their foreheads touching. Skye’s eyes stared down into Jemma only half seeing her through the hazy layer of lust glazing over them. She wasn’t quite with it enough in that moment to recognize Jemma staring right back up at her with the same carnal fever glazing over her eyes. One of Skye’s hands rested on Jemma’s jaw, the other was buried under the pillow beneath Jemma’s head, Skye’s weight resting on its attached elbow. Jemma’s arms were looped haphazardly around Skye’s neck, fingers of one hand buried in her hair and the others pressing into the back of Skye’s shoulder.

“You’re trembling,” Jemma’s whisper ghosted across the tiny chasm of space left between their lips right to Skye’s without breaking their heavy gaze as their abdomens jolted against each other, fighting to catch their breaths.

“So are you…” Skye pointed out. The beginnings of a smirk quirked up the right corner of her mouth.

“Come here,” Jemma whispered. She lifted her head from the pillow to let them both indulge in one last kiss, this one softer, sweet and lingering as she pulled Skye to her and rolled them onto their sides.

“Jem-,”

“Shhh,” Jemma kissed the side of Skye’s neck as they settled into their normal sleeping situation, wrapped and tangled around each other, Jemma’s face buried in Skye’s neck and collarbone, Skye’s chin resting against Jemma’s head, tucked snuggly under the covers. “We said we’d talk after rest,” she reminded Skye.

Against her better judgment, mostly because the exhaustion from the day finally hit her full force, Skye nodded. She kissed the top of Jemma’s head and tucked her chin atop it per usual. Jemma sighed against her collar and Skye was more acutely aware of the way Jemma’s arm always draped across her torso diagonally and came to rest against her outside hip, just between the hems of her shirt and pants, as if to make sure every little bit of skin that could touch Skye, would in sleep. “Sweet dreams Jem,” Skye murmured. Jemma attempted to murmur something back but it was more of an unintelligible sleepy garble that made Skye smile the same way Jemma’s sleepy attempts to snuggle her face closer to Skye made Skye’s heart skip a beat or three. Jemma was out first and Skye, for once, wasn’t long after her.

\--

Skye and Jemma didn’t get a chance to talk the next day. In fact, they actually slept until well into the late afternoon. When they woke, it was because both of their stomachs were growling. Rather than venturing to the cafeteria and having to run into any of the men in the base, they sat at the small table in the room and ate from their own packs, using some of the snacks and drinks in the mini fridge but doing so very cautiously. Both of them were sore and beaten down from their long march and the trauma of the night so nether spoke. Every so often, one would reach for the other to touch a hand, a forearm, to tuck some hair behind an ear, to steady an incessantly nervously bouncing knee. Each touch was followed with a glance and some gesture of appreciation like a small smile, a squeeze of the hand, just something small. After their meal, without speaking to agree upon anything, they carried their worldly belongings with them into the bathroom and propped the locked door with a chair. Just as they had the night before, though with a bit more self-awareness, they peeled out of their clothes and climbed into the shower.

Just as the night before, it was with natural, easy effort that they shifted around the hot water, helping each other clean their harder to reach spots, generally gravitating close to each other. Whatever sexual tension that might have been between them after their heated moment the night before did nothing to make them awkward with each other. There was more between them than that sexual tension and they were both aware of it, whether it had been talked about or not. The biggest thing was trust and each of them clearly trusted the other woman with their very lives. Maybe they hadn’t shared everything there was to know about each other just yet, but they didn’t have secrets from each other and each knew that they were the support beam the other leaned on when they felt like it was impossible to breathe. So it was with ease that they moved around each other, using the hot water to ease away some of the more minor muscle aches and 

the soap and shampoo cleanse away the leftover dirt and grime they’d missed the night before. If one started to stall out, scrubbing harder and repeatedly at a particular area without realizing it, the other was quick to settle a calming hand on theirs and take over for them.

Once the water was off it was a joint effort to dry off skin, comb and dry hair and climb back into their clothes. It was only after that that they pulled the chair from the door handle and carried their bags back into the main room with them. After that, it was yawning, stretches and back into bed with them both. The moved in effortless silence, not needing to comment to know they were simply curling back up together for more rest. Much as they had before on many nights or afternoons, they simply tucked into each other’s arms into what had become their default position and drifted off to sleep. It might have been considered rude, perhaps, to barricade themselves in and to sleep through an entire day without emerging to explore and further mingle with the people in what was their current, temporary, shelter but they’d been through a lot and if this was the only time they might get to let themselves catch up on their sleep deprivation, they may as well capitalize.

\--

Their second morning in the base, they awoke to the sound of an intercom. “Good morning ladies!” It was the upbeat, and annoying, voice of John Garrett. “So sorry to wake you but there’s chow in the cafeteria and afterward, we’d like to take you through orientation – assuming you’re looking to stay on with us rather than moving on. Grub’s on. Meet me in the cafeteria, ten minutes.” A long alarm horn bell followed the end of the message.

Skye groaned but bit her tongue. She didn’t want to bad mouth Garrett since there were likely microphones around. It would be rude and they didn’t know how he’d react yet. Jemma replied to Skye’s groan with a disgruntled hum of her own right before her stomach grumbled. Skye snickered. “I suppose he had good timing after all.” She murmured.

“Mmm,” Jemma stretched, cracking her joints  as her back arched, pressing her tighter to Skye. Skye reflexively wrapped her arms tighter around Jemma and pulled her closer.

“Five more minutes,” she murmured into Jemma’s hair.

“He did give us ten to meet him…” Jemma didn’t want to unwind from Skye to get out of bed any more than Skye wanted to. Skye grinned but exhaled a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right, we should go,” Jemma replied. Reluctantly, they unwound from each other and climbed from bed. Skye threw a hooded sweatshirt over her shirt and slung her bag over her shoulders. She hooked her belt and weapons on while Jemma pulled on one of her jumpers and similarly got situated with her backpack and weaponry. They didn’t leave until they were sure they had all their belongings with them but had left all of the items in  the room themselves. It would be best to be prepared to leave after breakfast.


	23. What You Had To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twofor since I was on a roll to finish this chapter up.
> 
> Sorry about typos, most of this was done on my phone, let me know where you see then and I'll correct iT  
> <3
> 
>   
> ____________________

With a lingering unease, Jemma and Skye decided they would give Garrett’s military base a one week trial. Garrett seemed incredibly pleased by this news. They were given an orientations which gave them a longer, ‘more complete’ tour of the facilities, gave them video and paper printouts of all the rules of living in the base. They were told they would have to earn their keep just like everyone else and that was the part what made Skye nervous. She and Jemma had very different skill sets, which meant they would be separated for their respective ‘work details.’ Both Skye and Jemma felt great unease about this fact but they had agreed that they should stay for a trial period. Skye didn’t like the idea of remaining in this place very often but she was worried that taking Jemma back out into the wilderness right now would be a terrible strain for her to bear after the events of just a few nights prior. The trial period would give them further time to assess their situation while giving them a viable out if they needed it. 

  
Jemma’s scientific skillset saw her being escorted by Garrett to what appeared to be a medical wing and laboratory. There was one scientist in the base and he was very eager to tell Jemma about the work he was doing on trying to study the plague, as they took to calling it at the base. He thought a new set of eyes was just what he needed. Right away Jemma felt wary. She caught glimpses of things in his experiments that she found suspect though she kept them to herself, locked away in her brain only for discussion with Skye. Skye was the only one Jemma trusted and she was very careful to be diligent about memorizing steps and turns to get from her and Skye’s room to the lab. She also memorized them in the reverse so she’d know her way back. In addition to their room, Skye and Jemma’s had an emergency meetup space picked out in the event of an issue of some kind as a contingency if they couldn’t make it to meetup in or at their room.   
  
Skye carefully played her hand. She didn’t tell Garrett about her network, electrical and technical skills. She wanted to keep those close to heart because she didn’t want him getting used to having her around. She also didn’t want him to know that she knew ways to get into their system to disable cameras and alarms. Strategically, she thought this would give her a major advantage in the long run. As a result, Garrett set her up with a series of tasks to assess her skills. He started off with weapons training but found she was already trained and very well. He didn’t find that all that surprising honestly after what the boys had told him while they were rounding the women up. Her cooking skills were more suited to small meals and not mass feedings for dozens of people. There wasn’t enough ‘paper work,’ for them to pigeonhole her into an administrative job which was just fine by her as forcing her into that role probably meant that they would make her work with Miles and she didn’t like the vibe she received from him anyhow. In the end, Garrett had given her a few days’ worth of janitorial services to do. Skye thought her bluff was paying off as these jobs let her have access to areas she didn’t have access to otherwise.   
  
At lunch, Skye and Jemma met in the cafeteria and kept to themselves. Seated close, heads bent together. They spoke only of superficial things about; about the base and how they were liking their particular positions, how each other’s day was going, how the other was feeling physically, mentally or emotionally. It was normal conversation and they could relax better together than during their times apart. Come dinner time, both were off the clock and would meet up in the cafeteria again. For supper, they would let themselves be a bit more social with the men of the base. For the most part, the pair let the men talk. Occasionally they would ask questions and Skye or Jemma would answer, honestly but carefully as well. Slowly the men warmed up to them and Skye and Jemma were careful to play the game and make nice so the men thought they were adjusting and becoming friendly with them. Building trust was important, even if it was a bluff. Skye was positive it was a bluff on the men’s parts, at least for some of them. Some of them also seemed genuine but that didn’t prevent Skye and Jemma from keeping up a calculated guard for themselves.   
  
Each night after dinner, they retired to their room together where they locked themselves in and barricaded the door with a chair for good measure. It became a ritual to take their packs into the bathroom with them, lock themselves in there with a chair blocking that door as well only to peel their way out of their clothes for the day and hop into the shower together. Skye wasn’t convinced that their bathroom was free of cameras or microphones but she hadn’t found any in her searches just yet like she had in their room. The ones in the main part of their room were more obvious. Their joint shower was a silent decompression. They didn’t need to exchange words here, just tactile sensation as each helped the other remove the grime and stress of the day, often ending with each holding the other tightly under the warm water raining down from the showerhead.   
  
After drying and taking care of changing, combing hair and brushing teeth, they would make their way to the main room. All their belongings were always properly packed back into their bags and those were kept at hand for easy jumps into their boots while grabbing bags to make and escape for it if they had to. This wasn’t something specific to being stuck in the base, of course. This was something that had been drilled into Skye as part of her survival skills learned from her brother. In turn, she had drilled them into Jemma. When this was all said and done, Skye would set some music playing softly in the background with a timer going and the pair would crawl into bed and curl up together. They never had managed to get that serious talk in after the night they’d kissed while in bed but even so it hadn’t been their last intimate moment together. Their time curled up in bed before falling asleep was spent nuzzling in close to shield their mouths and speak against each other’s ears in soft whispers drowned out by the music playing in the room. This was when their real conversations existed, where their fears, observations and plans took place. A couple of nights it also devolved into some low levels of fooling around, kissing each other breathless while hands roamed and mapped out each other’s contours beneath their pajamas. Inevitably, the timer shut the music off and the two of them fell asleep cuddled close together.   
  
It was on their sixth day there (the fifth day into their weeklong trial) when things began to shift. Skye was in the large main garage that they had first pulled into on the night when the truck brought them into the base. She had finished an inventory list and was sweeping up one of the back corners when a loud buzzer went off and nearly made her jump out of her skin and drop her broom. A yellow light in the ceiling over one of the heavy metal garage doors turn on, its internal mechanisms spinning the light as if it were the kind on a tow truck or police car roof. Skye’s eyes traveled to the heavy metal armored door in front of that light. She took two instinctive steps toward it but stopped herself. They were likely watching her on the camera. The door creaked to life and began to open with a loud grinding sound as the motors worked. Skye squinted against the sunlight that came in and very barely resisted the urge to rush outside for some of that sunlight. She forced herself to go back to sweeping, to ignore whomever this was returning. Garrett had been talking about a group of his men that were on a specific supply run mission that were a few weeks overdue so Skye made the mental leap that this was the group.   
  
Even though she kept her head down and kept at work, Skye kept her ears open. The tired squealed lightly as a military truck similar to the one that had picked Skye and Jemma up pulled into through the opened garage door. Behind them, the motor for the garage door kicked on again and the door began moving back down into place. Once it was inside it’s blow-ground track, the buzzer went off again and the light stopped flashing. Skye heard Garrett’s voice as he appeared from one of the doors that led to the lower levels of the base.   
  
“Welcome home, boys!” Garrett began to approach, each of the soldiers that climbed from anywhere out of the truck greeted him with a salute and a firm follow-up handshake. “Was starting to worry a bit there until you finally came back into radio range,” He said.   
  
Skye kept her head down as she heard the front doors opening and various soldiers climbing down from the seats and hopping out of the back, their boots scraping the concrete as they landed, their various bits of gear clicking as they moved. She listened, wanting to see if she could ‘accidentally,’ overhear what kind of cargo they’d picked up on their special mission.   
  
“Good to be back, Sir,” The driver spoke and Skye’s head snapped up. “Hope you weren’t at a disadvantage due to our delay.”   
  
Skye dropped her broom with a loud gasp, her feet moved of their own accord, slowly at first as her brain grappled with disbelief then quicker. Garrett and the others all looked up in surprise at the sounds but by then Skye was nearly a blur, racing directly for them. “Grant!” She gasped as if he were a mirage. Even though she wasn’t sure at all if she was delirious and hallucinating, Skye launched herself in the air at the soldier, Her arms and legs wrapped about the taller man, who caught her just as she collided with him. Her arms wound around his neck and shoulders so tightly she was holding onto the backs of her own elbows with each opposite hand, her legs wrapped automatically around his waist. Shell shocked by this revelation, Skye abruptly broke into sobs as she buried her face into the side of his head, and neck. “Y-you’re alive,” she gasped quietly between sobs, repeating it as a mantra as if not doing so would make him disappear in her arms. “You’re alive, you’re alive,” she stammered in tears.   
  
“Skye?” Grant’s voice sounded uncertain and constricted in his throat. His arms found their way around her at her middle and as he realized that this was indeed his little sister who had suddenly come running and leaping into his arms, he squeezed her tight, crushing her against him, afraid to even lean back to look at her and confirm that it was her. He’d heard her voice, felt the familiarity in her. Ward felt his own emotions starting to swell. He kissed the side of Skye’s head and squeezed her even tighter. Skye tried to tug her arms and legs even tighter around Grant, as if the mere act of letting go would prove this was all a mirage and Grant would disappear again. “I thought you were-,”   
  
“I thought you were too-,” Skye blurted against his ear.   
  
“How on Earth did you find…” Grant trailed off, his hand stalling on Skye’s back. She felt him looking around to locate their brother. “Trip?” he asked.   
  
Skye let out an inescapable sob and clenched her eyes tight against the memory playing in her mind’s eye of finding Trip in that basement, of what she’d had to do to him, of what she’d unleashed on his captors afterward. She shuddered in Grant’s grasp and sniffled as she shook her head. “He…H-he-,” she couldn’t force the words out.   
  
Grant’s muscles tensed under her grip and she clung tightly to him, nails digging into his clothes. All that time separated from both Grant and Trip, all that time knowing Trip was gone and forcing herself to believe Grant had to be dead as well if he hadn’t found the two of them. Skye had bottled up all that sadness, all that fear, every last drop of the shattered bits of her heart and pretended that they didn’t exist because she had needed, had wanted to be strong for Jemma. Jemma had coaxed her into giving in and breaking down a few times but this was different. This was the full release of her grief, her fear, of her guilt for all she’d done. Her body racked with sobs.   
  
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here,” Grant’s voice filtered into her ear, calm and soft with the thickness of underlying emotion he held back. He stroked a hand along her back.   
  
“I see you two know each other,” Garrett said. Frankly, he was surprised at Skye’s sobbing breakdown. He tried not to smile at the glee that he’d found another of Skye’s weaknesses, family. He could use this to help keep Grant in line too, he knew. Grant went to speak but Garrett shook his head and gave a free spot on Grant’s back a pat. “Go on and catch up, collect yourselves, get your bearings. We’ll take care of unloading the supplies. You can fill out your report later.” He told Grant before telling him which room Skye had been assigned.   
  
Grant gave Garrett a grateful nod. Without making Skye get down, he carried her with him as he headed across the garage and loaded into the elevator to right down to the proper floor. He felt Skye shudder in his arms, practically hiccupping as she tried to calm herself down from the crying jag. He felt her tears against his neck, soaking into the shoulder of his shirt. “I’ve got ya,” Grant assured her, patting and running his hand along her back as he supported her weight. He repeated it a few more times as they rode down to the right floor, dropping a kiss or two into the hair at the side of her head.   
When they made it to her door, Grant gave her back a few pats. “Do you have a key?” He asked Skye gently. Skye inhaled a shaky breath, as if she still didn’t even believe she was hearing his voice, let alone that he was holding onto her. With great reluctance to let him go at all, Skye shifted to release his waist and move her boots to the floor. Grant leaned over since she was still holding onto his neck. “It’s okay, Skye,” he assured her. “I’m here. We’re together now. I love you.” He tried to coax her into letting go just so she could unlock the door.   
  
Skye sniffled and her shoulders shook as she had progressed into the post-cry hiccup phase. Finally, she unwound her arms from his neck and reached for the chain around her neck that held her keys and some other bits and bobs. She unlocked the door then tucked the chain back into her shirt as she let them inside. As soon as they were inside with the door shut and locked behind them, Skye surged forward and wrapped her arms around Grant’s middle and buried her face into his chest. “You’re really here, you’re actually here,” Her words were muffled into his uniform jacket. “I love you so much,” she cried all over again.   
  
Grant chuckled slightly when Skye went right back to hugging him. He wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t thought she was dead, not until he’d reached their second emergency meetup spot and didn’t find either of them. And then on their way back from their mission, he’d managed to get Garrett to agree to a detour to the cabin meetup, where he was met with destruction and chaos as the place had been overrun at some point. “I thought you were gone too,” He turned his head down and kissed the top of hers. He managed after a few minutes of coddling her to get her to come and sit down with him at the small table in the room. He got them both some coffee going from the machine but Skye was too shaken up to drink any so Grant took of his uniform gloves and stuffed them in his jacket before pulling that off and hanging it on the chair. He said down next to Skye and put his hand on top of hers. Skye put her other hand on top of his and squeezed with both of her hands. “You said Trip is…” He paused as Skye nodded and dropped her eyes. “But you have two backpacks,” He nodded toward the bed and then watched his sister carefully, tucking some hair behind her ear.   
  
“That’s Jemma’s,” Skye answered with a sniffle. “Trip, he...” Skye closed her eyes against the tears welling in them and a few slid down her cheeks. Grant wiped at them and Skye kept her head down, averting her eyes. “He made it to the cabin way before I did,” she told him, flinching at the replay of her memories that her mind decided to put on loop. “He left a note but…but by the time we were able to go and look…”   
  
“Skye, it’s okay, you don’t have to do this right now-,”   
  
“No, I do,” Skye sniffled. She turned her eyes to Grant’s but they were much different than the brown eyes he remembered. They were haunted, traumatized. “We found a large cabin after a long hike,” She said. “Went on a supply search and…a-an, and we found…” she stammered, her whole body trembling. “Cannibals,” she spit the word out as more tears clouded her vision. “W-we found him in their basement,” she sniffled. “They had, they had…” She shook her head, shuddered and looked back at Grant with that haunted gaze that made Grant’s own spine want to shudder. This was his brother she was talking about, in the same sentence as the word ‘cannibals.’ Grant squeezed Skye’s hand and let her continue since it was clear she needed to get it out, to tell him.   
  
“They w-were keeping him…alive,” Skye’s voice kept cutting out on her. That moment, that terrifying moment in the dark with only her flashlight that she’d when she’d heard the gurgle and turned to find Trip, limbs missing, burbling up his own spit and blood, begging for her just to kill him. Skye started to blurt it all out, needed to tell him, to confess. She told Grant all about how she tried to break Trip free, how infected his wounds were, how they’re been taking him piece by piece to eat him. Told him about how Trip had begged her just to kill him so he wouldn’t become one of the ghouls and about how she had done it because she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him there or of her brother coming back in any capacity as one of them. She told Grant, bitterly, that she’d gotten revenge for what they’d made her do to Trip, about how she took every last one of them out and burnt that damn place down to the ground.   
  
By the end, Grant was holding onto Skye again as she told the rest of the story. He rocked her just slightly and stroked her hair and back. “It’s not your fault,” He told her. “You did what you had to do,” He kissed the top of her head. “I’d have done the same thing,” He reminded her every so often that he loved her. When she was calm enough he told his story about how he’d made it to their first meetup spot but couldn’t find any trace that they’d been there. He said he’d left a note to tell them to move on to the cabin. By her estimated dates, he thought he made it there almost a week before Trip. Again he left a note and then moved on toward their last meetup coordinates, which, he told her, would have eventually led them to the base they were in now because he had a radio there to contact Garrett. Turned out a number of the soldiers on the base were ones Grant had served with during his time in the military. That didn’t put Skye at ease with the men on the base of course but she felt safer having Grant there with her. Grant never encountered the cannibals. He figured Trip must have taken his note and left his own behind, wanting to wait for Skye.   
  
When the tears had dried and Skye and Grant finally broke from their hug and sat up straighter, He eyed the extra bag by the bed and then arched his eyebrow at Skye. “So, tell me about this-,”   
  
As he was saying it, a key turned in the lock and the door flung open. Skye hadn’t kept track of time and didn’t realize it had been supper time. When Jemma had arrived in the cafeteria and no one present knew where Skye was, Jemma had taken off running back to their room. Fear and panic were etched into the creases of her face as she panted away with shallow erratic breaths from the run.   
  
“Jemma!” Skye jumped from the table as Jemma rushed into the room and threw herself at Skye, wrapping her arms around her neck and shoulders tightly. Skye wrapped her arms around Jemma’s middle and held on. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize what time it was – hey, it’s okay,” she stroked Jemma’s hair and promised.   
  
Jemma pulled away and was preparing to tell Skye how scared she was when she’d walked into the cafeteria and found no sight of her (especially when Skye was always there before Jemma, patiently waiting for her) when she realized from Skye’s face that she’d been crying and that someone else was in the room. Still worked up, Jemma jumped back and pulled Skye behind her as if to move to protect her. Grant moved to stand, slowly but Jemma backed up against Skye and grit her teeth at the tall man. “Stay back!” She ordered, reaching for her knife at her hip.   
  
Skye’s hand landed on Jemma’s wrist and held her just tight enough to keep her from yanking the knife free from its sheath. “Jem, wait!” She waited for Jemma to release the knife handle then walked around next to her. “Jemma, this is Grant-,”   
  
“Your brother,” Jemma breathed, suddenly recognizing the contours of his face from the picture that had been in the cabin.   
  
Grant nodded. “Nice to meet-,” Before he could get anything else out, Jemma surged forward, wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him tight, her face pressed into his shirt, shoulders sagging in relief. “You,” Grant finished. He gave Skye a quizzical look over the girl’s head.   
  
Skye’s eyes were shining with tears but she smiled, just a tiny bit. “Grant, this is Jemma,” She chuckled very faintly.   
  
Flushing with a bit of embarrassment, Jemma stepped back and sniffled quickly. “I’m, I’m sorry, it’s just that I-,”   
  
“You were worried about Skye,” Grant nodded. “No worries.” He smiled warmly at her. He noticed Jemma sidle right up to Skye’s side and reflexively Skye’s arm wound around Jemma’s lower back and Jemma leaned further into the touch. “Are you two…?” He pointed back and forth between them and arched his eyebrows curiously.   
  
“Let’s get food and bring it back here,” Skye smiled. “There’s a lot to talk about,” It wouldn’t all be happy sunshine and roses but it was a start to returning to some very minute semblance of normal for Skye. She could only hope that Jemma and Grant would get along since they were the only family she had left.   


**Author's Note:**

> Some random notes for you:   
> For the longest time, I have thought that _Lucius - Two of Us On The Run_ (google it...seriously. Thank me later ;) would make an EXCELLENT soundtrack song to a zombie apocalypse. So I have listened to that song on repeat while writing a good deal of this story so far. I have other morose songs on a playlist too but that song in particular has been kicking around my head wanting me to attempt this for awhile. 
> 
> Without giving away and spoilers, I'm still reeling from the walking dead s7 premiere. On top of that my biggest (irrational!) fear is zombies. Plus it's still October so I thought, let's tackle a Skimmons Zombie Apocalypse together! What d'you say?? 
> 
> Marking this explicit now because at the very least I know how descriptive I can be and it's a post-apocalyptic world so, at the very least there'll be graphic depictions of violence going forward.


End file.
